


The Courtship of the Lady of Dale

by mnemosyne23



Series: Lords and Ladies - Fili/Sigrid [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bard is a good father, But a little overprotective, Courtship, F/M, Fluff, Kili's a regular Lothario, Poor Fili doesn't know the first thing about courting, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Romance, Sequel, Sweetness, Tauriel is awesomesauce
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:36:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 41,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemosyne23/pseuds/mnemosyne23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Lords and Ladies."  Sigrid -- eldest child of Bard, Lord of Dale --  has been fighting off marriage proposals for months. Then one day an unexpected suitor comes to the door...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I couldn't help myself. I loved writing "Lords and Ladies," and I dearly wanted to spend some more time with these characters while fleshing out a bit of what their life is like in this brave new world post-Smaug. This story will be longer than "L&L," and while I'll try to keep up a brisk updating pace I can make no promises. I've got the first three chapters written; when writer's block hits me it hits me HARD, so I'm trying to get as much of this out of my head as quickly as I can. I'll not beg for comments, but if you feel inclined to leave some words of encouragement I'd be appreciative. ^_^
> 
>  
> 
> **This story falls approximately a year after "L &L," so Sigrid is 19 years old.**

“Sigrid! Sigrid! Another suitor's coming!”

Sigrid, Lady of Dale, daughter of Bard the Bowman – Dragonslayer, Hero of Esgaroth and Lord of Dale – looked up from her embroidery as her sister came barreling through her chamber door and grumbled, “Bugger.”

“That's naughty language,” Tilda giggled. “And you'll give yourself lemon-face if you keep glowering like that.”

“My dear Tilda,” Sigrid sighed in frustration, “I have been beset by bloody suitors for the last six months. You may think it's grand and romantic, but I'll tell you the truth: it's _boring!_ ” She tossed aside her embroidery hoop and flopped onto her back, staring up at the lacy canopy above her bed. 

Word traveled fast, even along the nascent trade routes that had just begun to re-form between the cities of Dale and Esgaroth and the rest of the world of Men, and it had quickly gotten about that the newly minted Lord of Dale had a marriageable daughter and that she was quite pretty. Their doorstep had been plagued with marriage proposals ever since. Every merchant, tradesmen, craftsmen and noble worth his salt had asked for her hand, or offered up their sons as fine husband material. Lords from as far away as Gondor, eager to have access to the fisheries of Esgaroth, the textiles and grains of Dale, and – above all else – the riches of the Dwarf kingdom Erebor, had made the long journey to Bard's simple yet stately manse to press their suit for her hand.

Tilda was still young enough to find the business exciting and romantic, convinced that Sigrid would be swept off her feet by a handsome prince and carried away on a snow white charger to live happily ever after in a castle made of spun sugar and silver filigree. Truth be told, in the beginning Sigrid had felt the same. It was the stuff of storybooks, but she was not so old yet that she didn't still harbor a few fantasies of true love and promises of forever. But as suitor after suitor came to their door, each one more disappointing than the last, she'd slowly begun to let go of such childish dreams. The last hopeful who'd come along had been old enough to be her uncle, wide enough to pull an oxcart, and smelled like stale pipe weed and sweat; and he was one of the BETTER options, because at least he could offer a generous dowry. Most who came to sue for her hand came bearing promises of future fortune but little else. She was, in short, their meal ticket.

In those situations, romance was in short supply.

Sigrid sighed and closed her eyes, raising a hand to rub her forehead in an effort to stave off her impending headache. It didn't help things one bit that she had ideas of her own about who she wanted to marry; ideas that neither her father nor her chosen's guardian would ever support. 

She tilted her head and gazed through the gauzy curtains that hung over her window, fluttering in the light spring breeze. In the distance the Lonely Mountain speared into the bright blue April sky, its peak ringed in white clouds. Deep in its stone caverns the dwarves were busily mining their precious ores, melting them, forging them into brilliant works of art; the skillful craftsmanship of flame and anvil. 

And somewhere in there, surrounded by treasure, walked a simple young dwarf with hair like spun gold … who just happened to be the Crown Prince of Erebor and heir of the King Under the Mountain.

It had been almost a year since their tryst at the lake. Since then she had seen Fili several times, here in town and out and about in the fields around Erebor, but that had been all. There was simply no _time_. Fili's uncle continued to place greater and greater responsibility on his heir's shoulders, and Sigrid herself found her time consumed with the day-to-day business of aiding her father in the governing and oversight of Dale, not to mention fending off all these damnable suitors.

But if she closed her eyes – and let her heartbeat drown out the hubbub of the busy city outside her window – she could remember the touch of his strong hands and the rasp of his beard against her tender flesh. Her fingers remembered the hot, heavy girth of his manhood, and her breasts tingled from the sense memory of rubbing against his bare chest, all covered in hair like gold.

How could she settle for a son of Men when just a taste of a son of Durin had left her so sated yet still hungry for more?

_Oh, Fili. You don't know what you've done to me._

The bed tilted as Tilda knelt beside her on the quilted coverlet. “It's not really so bad, Sig, is it?” the younger girl asked. Sigrid turned her attention away from the window and out of her memories and found her sister watching her with worried eyes. “Everybody loves you.”

Sigrid managed a wan smile. It hurt to see the confusion in her little sister's face. She didn't want to be the one who crushed the young girl's dreams of true love and courageous paupers-made-princes who pledged eternal devotion to their lady loves. Someday it would be Tilda's turn to face the endless parade of bland, unappealing suitors, but not today. 

“It's not so bad,” she lied, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of her sister's hair back behind the little girl's ear. “Some of them are quite nice.”

“But you don't love any of them.”

“No. That doesn't mean I wouldn't grow to love one of them, though,” she assured the little girl. “Loves that blaze bright in the beginning may fade just as fast, but the love that builds over time will burn long and warm.”

Tilda's eyes widened. “Cor, that was pretty, Sig. Did you read that in one of Ma's books?”

Sigrid laughed softly. “No. The Lady Tauriel shared it with me when last she was here.”

“I like Tauriel,” Tilda said, sprawling out on her stomach next to Sigrid and playing with her sister's abandoned embroidery. “She's pretty and strong and uses a bow almost as good as Da. Plus she's got Kili, and Kili's fun.”

“That's Prince Kili, Tilda. He's a very important Dwarf. You must mind your manners.”

“He doesn't like it when I call him a prince though,” Tilda said, wrinkling her nose. “I was gonna marry him when I got older, but I think I'll let him marry Tauriel instead.”

“Oh you will? That's very magnanimous of you.”

“What's that word mean? Magnamininnyous?”

“Magnanimous. It means you're being very generous.”

“Oh. Well Kili _always_ gives me piggyback rides when he comes to visit, and I don't even need to _ask_ , so I want to be generous to him, too.” Sigrid wondered what Tauriel would say if she found out that Tilda considered the she-elf's deep affections for the younger dwarf prince to be equivalent in value to a few playful piggyback rides. She suspected it would make the willowy elf Captain smile. 

With a sigh Sigrid pulled herself back into a sitting position. “Okay, enough chit-chat. You came up here because another suitor has come to try and whisk me away.”

“Ooh, yes!” Tilda's eyes sparkled. “He should be just about here by now. I don't know who it is, but the people outside were saying he was riding through town on a horse black as midnight, wearing clothes of gold and emerald! Hurry up!”

Sigrid's lips twitched in a wry smile. “So rich as that, eh? I'll believe it when I see it. Gossip travels faster than truth.”

She let her sister drag her out of her room and down the stairs, very nearly running headfirst into their father.

“Ah, Sigrid. I was just about to come fetch you.” Bard gave her a tired smile. “It appears we've another suitor come to ask for your hand.”

“Yes, Tilda was telling me. Da, can't we put up a sign that says I've been eaten by orcs? Or come down with some awful wasting disease? “

The bowman chuckled and laid a hand on her hair. “My poor Sigrid. Come along, let's see if we can't chase this one off faster than the others.”

She smiled and linked her arm through his as Tilda took his other hand. “Da, is it true he came riding a horse black as midnight, and him all dressed in clothes of gold and emerald?” the little girl asked, breathless with anticipation.

“I've no idea. I haven't met him yet. I thought it best to fetch Sigrid first before she climbed out her window and ran away so as not to have to face him.”

“Da, I'd never do that!” Sigrid lightly smacked her father's shoulder. “I'd hide in my closet.”

“Ah, of course. I shall remember that.”

Back in Lake-town, when Bard had been a simple bargeman, their home had been small with every nook and cranny put to practical use. In comparison, the manse of the Lord of Dale had more space than Sigrid quite knew what to do with. It even had a whole room just for holding audiences with visitors. It seemed an awful waste of space to her, but the petitioners who came to ask her father for advice or judgment seemed to like it. It housed a long table for holding meetings, and had a wide open floor for larger gatherings. What Sigrid liked best about it were the windows. They were made of delicate stained glass – a gift from Erebor – and depicted the death of Smaug. She didn't know how they'd managed it, but the dwarves had captured her father perfectly as he stood atop the Master's house and fired the wind lance.

Bard gestured for one of the house servants – Sigrid still couldn't believe they had _servants_ , but even she didn't want to try to do all the dusting herself – to show in the latest petitioner for her hand. “If he's old and fat, try coughing a few times,” Bard said to her out of the corner of his mouth. “If we can convince him you're sickly we might be able to drive him off.”

“How is that different from my idea of putting up a sign that says I'm dying of a horrible wasting disease?”

“Father knows best.”

“Hmph. Fine. But it was my idea first.”

She was trying to decide if she should start playing up the frailty quickly or let it drag out a little when the door to the audience chamber opened and her suitor walked in.

Sigrid's eyes widened in shock.

Tilda squealed with delight. “KILI!”

The Dwarf prince came to a stop several feet from the little group and made a sweeping bow. It was no wonder no one had recognized him as he rode through the streets on his horse (which was indeed black as midnight, and large enough for the dwarf and a certain she-elf to ride together), for he was wearing garb such as Sigrid had never seen before. Silks in bottle green. A cape lined with cloth of gold. Even his boots, made of finest leather, were decorated with gold buckles. His hair had been tied back with green ribbons and gold beads.

In short, he looked nothing like himself. Had Sigrid not been so familiar with his face and that familiar, bubbly smile she'd never have recognized the man in front of her. 

Though she supposed the fact that the top of his head barely reached her chin would have clued her in eventually.

“Prince Kili, to what do we owe this honor?” Sigrid thanked the Valar for her father as he greeted the dwarf, since she was still trying to find her voice.

“Please, milord Bard, call me Kili.” The dwarrow's infectious smile lit up his face. “And I come bearing happy tidings.”

“Oh? Please share.”

Sigrid blushed as she found Kili's twinkling gaze turned fully on her. “I have come to ask for the Lady Sigrid's hand in marriage.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sigrid gaped at Kili. “You... what?”

The dwarf continued to twinkle, like an effervescent sunbeam. “Your hand in marriage, milady.”

“But you're gonna marry Tauriel!” Tilda protested from Bard's other side.

Kili's eyes crinkled with delight as he pulled from under his cloak a roll of parchment. “Ah, you have me there, milady Tilda. You have put your thumb square upon it. I thought I'd give it a try anyway, yes? Just to test the waters, you understand. But it appears I'll have to read this dratted thing after all.”

Sigrid watched in confusion as Kili unrolled the parchment. It was written in a hard, blocky calligraphy that filled the paper from edge to edge.

“Balin wrote this out, so you'll have to pardon me if it sounds a bit stodgy,” he said with a little bow. After clearing his throat noisily he began to read.

 

_”On behalf of Thorin Oakenshield,_   
_King Under the Mountain,_   
_I, Kili, Prince of Erebor,_   
_do humbly request the hand in marriage_   
_Of the Lady Sigrid of Dale,_   
_Daughter of Bard the Bowman, Dragonslayer,_   
_Hero of Esgaroth and Lord of Dale,_   
_To be pledged to my brother,_   
_Fili, Crown Prince of Erebor,_   
_Heir of the King Under the Mountain-”_

Sigrid's heart stuttered in her chest as Kili continued to read.

_”-The marriage to take place in two month's time_   
_At the Festival of Midsummer._   
_The dowry we offer is as follows:_   
_The Lady Sigrid's weight in_   
_Gold, silver, gems, and ornaments,_   
_To be paid upon confirmation that_   
_The marriage has been consummated._

_“I humbly submit this petition_   
_In the spirit of friendship between our peoples,_   
_And in the hope that the line of Girion_   
_Will unite with the line of Durin_   
_In the blessed halls of our fathers.”_

Kili rolled up the parchment as a stunned silence fell over the room. “Here, do you think I could get a cup of water?” he asked, tucking away the scroll again. “Balin writes like a diplomat – dry as a bone.”

“Is Fili really going to marry our Sigrid?” Tilda asked, wide-eyed with wonder.

“If she says yes,” Kili answered with a smile.

“Say yes, Sig! Then you can go live in Erebor and I can come see you and we can go swimming through seas of gold!”

“Hush, Tilda,” Bard said softly, squeezing his younger daughter's hand. He turned his attention back to Kili, who was waiting patiently for an answer. “Prince Kili-”

“Just Kili, please.”

“Very well. Kili, I... am certainly humbled that the King Under the Mountain should seek my daughter to wed the Crown Prince. Nevertheless, I hope you'll not think me rude when I say I'm also surprised and, frankly, suspicious.”

“Da,” Sigrid protested, finding her voice at last. Her father waved her off.

“Thorin Oakenshield has proven to be a good monarch,” Bard continued, watching Kili with firm eyes, “and a valued ally. He has earned the respect that is due to the King Under the Mountain. But I don't think you would argue, Kili, that he is xenophobic, and distrustful of the motives of those outside his realm. Why should he suddenly show such interest in my daughter? What are his reasons for seeking to unite our houses through this marriage? My Sigrid is not a pawn, master dwarf, and I'll not see her used as one. She has already shouldered enough responsibility on my behalf in her young life. I'll not allow her happiness to be threatened by any who would use her as a bargaining chip, be they Man, Dwarf, Elf or otherwise.”

Sigrid quickly turned her gaze back to Kili, expecting to see him glaring at her father. Instead, to her surprise, his smile seemed even wider than before.

“My Lord Bard, I understand completely,” he said. “I, perhaps more than anyone, am aware of my uncle's views of the other races of Middle-Earth, and I want to assure you that he has nothing but respect for you and your children. You aided us when our company first arrived in Lake-town on our way to the Lonely Mountain. You took me in when I was brought low by the orc arrow, despite your differences with my uncle. You slew the dragon that slaughtered our people and stole our home away from us. We owe you a great debt, and the line of Durin does not take debts lightly.

“Further, I vow that the Lady Sigrid is not and will never be used as a bargaining chip. Neither I nor my brother would allow it.” He gave her a friendly nod. “Nor do I think the Lady herself would stand for it.”

Sigrid blushed.

“So far as motives go,” Kili continued, turning his attention back to Bard, “they are as I said. My uncle seeks only to unite our houses in the spirit of friendship, so that we may move forward as more than simply allies, and face the future as family.”

Bard nodded slowly. “You speak pretty words, master Kili. I am almost inclined to agree to your request. But I find myself still suspicious.”

Kili bowed. “How may I allay your suspicions, milord?”

“Why me?” Sigrid blurted before her father could speak. “I'm sure that Fi- that the Crown Prince could have his pick of any dwarf lady in Erebor, or just about anywhere, really. Why choose me?” Her pulse raced in her ears.

Kili's smile softened. “Milady, you are kind, and you are good,” he explained. “I myself have seen you offer small children tenderness and hunched greybeards respect.

“You are sharp as a tack and stubborn as a mule. I have seen you stand up to men twice your size who left your presence seeming smaller than a hobbit.

“I have seen you put yourself between your sister and a pack of ravening orcs, and as someone who has some experience with the creatures, that is no small feat of bravery.

“You are a lady of quality who has lived her life in poor circumstances, exiled from your rightful home by a greedy, gluttonous fire drake. But even now, restored to your rightful nobility, you are neither averse nor ashamed to roll up your sleeves and pin back your hair and get your hands dirty in service of your people. In fact, milady Sigrid, if I did not have the proof of my eyes that you are a daughter of Men I would be certain that you were a daughter of Durin, since your story is little different from mine and my brother's.”

His eyes sparkled as he added, “And though you regrettably have no beard, milady, you are nonetheless beautiful. A jewel in the crown of the race of Men.”

Sigrid's face felt hot and her mouth was dry. She was painfully aware of her clothes, made of fine fabric but sturdy and practical instead of the delicate silks of a true noblewoman. She felt shabby standing so close to the glittering prince. “And does your brother share your opinions, Prince Kili?” she managed to murmur.

“Milady, as in almost all things, in regards to you we agree.” His voice lost the lilting, grandiose tone he'd been using, and once again he was just her friend Kili. “He's very fond of you, Sigrid.”

She closed her eyes and nodded, her throat too tight for words. _Oh, Fili..._

Through the sound of blood roaring in her ears she heard Kili once again address her father. “Your daughter's happiness is of the utmost importance to my uncle, my brother and myself, Lord Bard. I know, however, that you are still uneasy about my uncle's petition for her hand. So allow me to propose a test.”

“A test?” Bard frowned. “What sort of test?”

“Allow my brother to court your daughter for one month,” Kili said, that familiar cheeky smile on his face. “If at the end of that time neither you nor Lady Sigrid feel convinced of his sincerity we will withdraw our request for the Lady's hand, but will still pay you a dowry equal to Sigrid's weight in gold as a show of gratitude for permitting the courtship.”

“That's very generous, master Kili. Does your uncle know you're offering this test?”

“I may have suggested it to him at one point or another, yes.”

“That doesn't give me great confidence, Kili.”

“You leave my uncle to me, milord Bard. You just focus on how well my brother treats your daughter. I assure you that, in a month's time, you'll have no qualms about agreeing to the marriage.”

Bard nodded slowly. “You have given my daughter and I a great deal to consider, Prince. Please relay to the King Under the Mountain that I shall have a response for him within a day's time.”

“It would be my pleasure, sir.” Kili bowed again, then turned his attention to Tilda, who was still clutching her father's hand and watching the scene with wide-eyes. “Milady Tilda, would you be so kind as to see me back to my horse?” Without another word he turned around and crouched down so the young girl could scramble onto his back.

Tilda's face melted into a smile and she let go of Bard's hand to run to her friend. “I told Sig I never have to ask with you,” she laughed as Kili hoisted her up, piggyback style. “If you don't marry Lady Tauriel, will you marry me?”

“Lass, I could never keep up with you. You'd wear me to the bone.”

Sigrid watched as her sister and the dwarf meandered back out of the audience chamber, chattering amiably. When they were gone her father turned to her, his face serious. “Sigrid-”

“Say yes, Da.” She looked at him, unashamed to realize she was pleading. “Say yes.”

“Sigrid, I know that you are good friends with Kili, and so with his brother, too, but they are still princes of Erebor. Their lives are heavily regimented.” He took her hands in his and squeezed. “I trust that they care about you, but I don't know that I trust Thorin to honor those cares in your regard. If he can use you as a way to gain something for his people he will do it, and his nephews' opinions be damned. Will they speak out against their uncle in that case?”

“But Da-”

“Shhh, Sigrid. I'm not saying no. I think perhaps Kili's idea of a courtship is the right course of action.”

Sigrid's heart swelled in her chest. “Really, Da?”

He smiled, the usually hard lines of his face softening as they always did around his children. “If master Fili can prove to me that he loves you as dearly as I do, Sigrid, then I can trust that he will protect you from any and all harm, even if it means defying the King Under the Mountain. In that event I would have no reason not to agree to the match. Provided, of course, that you felt the same.”

Sigrid threw her arms around her father and hugged him with all she was worth. “Thank you, Da!” she choked, clinging to him.

Bard rubbed her back. “I hope that the Crown Prince proves you right and me wrong, my girl,” he sighed. “I truly do. Otherwise I might have to marry you off to that fat old fart who reeked of pipe weed.”

She laughed and punched him lightly in the shoulder before hugging him again. “Over my orc-eaten body, Da.”


	3. Chapter 3

The messenger pigeon arrived the next day.

Fili had been watching the sky anxiously since Kili's return the previous afternoon. It was as he took his turn at watch on the battlements that he saw the sun flash off the bird's iridescent feathers when it landed at the dovecote near the front gate.

It was a frustrating few minutes before the prince could find another dwarf to take his post, and then a mad scramble through a maze of corridors and galleries to reach the King Under the Mountain.

"What is this insult?" Thorin was booming as Fili hurried into the throne room near a quarter of an hour later. Kili was standing in front of their uncle looking unaffected.

"Insult? What? What's going on?" Fili's eyes went to his brother. "Did Sigrid accept, Kili?"

The darker brother smiled at him. "Not yet, Fili."

"A month of courtship!" Thorin snapped, throwing a slip of parchment at Kili's feet. "Bard means to make a prince of Erebor -- _my heir!_ \-- beg for his daughter's hand."

"It's not begging, Uncle," Kili explained. "It's courting."

"Begging."

"Sigrid is Bard's firstborn. Do you expect him to hand her over like a paper doll? What harm is there in the line of Durin demonstrating a little romance?"

"It is unseemly for the heir of Durin to prostrate himself for a daughter of Men. She should be grateful for the proposal, not demanding caveats!"

"Be _sensible_ , Uncle. Bard loves his daughter very much. It would be unseemly for _him_ to marry her off without due vetting of her intended. There is no loss of face here on either side. Let Fili sweep the Lady Sigrid off her feet. It will only strengthen the resulting union between our houses, and it will set Bard's mind at ease. Besides," the younger prince added with a wink in Fili's direction, "there's nothing like a grand romance to silence the complaints of any naysayers. It could be the stuff of sagas, Uncle, and we dwarves do enjoy a good saga."

Thorin gave his younger nephew a withering look from under his heavy brow. "Balin was right about you, Kili," he observed in a dry tone. "You are become a silver-tongued devil."

The king sighed heavily. "Very well. I will agree to this… _courtship_ , such as it is, but don't take my agreement as acquiescence. I will brook no further insult to my blood and bone. Make sure that is understood."

Kili bowed his head respectfully. "As you wish, Uncle."

Thorin gave a brusque nod and strode down from the throne's dais, snatching up the discarded parchment along the way. In passing he paused at Fili's shoulder. "Don't embarrass our forefathers, Fili," he said with a stern look, pressing the note into his nephew's hand before sweeping out of the hall.

"Well that went as well as could be expected," Kili chirped when they were alone, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking altogether too pleased with himself.

Fili blinked at him. "Kili?"

"Mm?"

"What the hell is going on?"

+%+%+%+%+

Fili had first become aware of Sigrid's plague of suitors two months ago. In the year that had passed since their encounter at the lake he had been too busy with the day-to-day running of Erebor to spend much time in either Dale or Lake-town. The cities' reconstruction moved much faster in the summer months and there was simply no reason for Thorin's heir to split his time so heavily between the cities of Men and his own people anymore. The job of a Crown Prince was not one of ease, especially not when there were soldiers to train and outfit, crops and livestock to be harvested and housed, and wages to be paid. The King Under the Mountain was without a doubt the ruler in Erebor, but it was Fili to whom the clerks came when it was time to pay the bills.

So it was on one of his increasingly rare trips to Lake-town – the fishmongers were charging an increasingly high price for their trout, though Fili knew for a fact that Mirkwood had seen no such increase in cost – that he had encountered the Lord Fribble.

Lord Fribble hailed from Gondor. He was a great round meatball of a man, with jowls that would have made even Bombur cluck his tongue with distaste. His brown hair and thick mustache were glossy with perfumed oil, and the top of his head was clean-shaven in a perfect circle – the clear refuge of a balding man – so that the dome shone pink and shiny in the sun. Even in the late winter chill he was covered in a fine sheen of greasy sweat.

Fili found the man to be loud and obnoxious, but as it never hurt to make acquaintances in other realms he struck up a conversation at the local pub over two large mugs of ale and a couple plates of stew. That was when he'd learned the man's purpose for visiting.

"Come to try m'hand at wedding that gel over yonder in Dale," the fat man said around a mouthful of sausage and potato. Fili felt an instant dislike for any man who would pronounce ‘girl' as ‘gel.' "What's her name. Daughter of the Lord there."

Fili had nearly choked on his beer. "Lady Sigrid?"

"Aye, that's her. Dale's on the move, y'see; up and coming. Excellent investment. Always got t'be on the watch for new opportunity, lad. Always got t'be striking out for the horizon." He took a deep draught of his ale, froth clinging to his mustache. "Quite a pretty gel, too, from what I've heard. She'd better be, too. I'd hate t'have come so far in this blasted cold for a homely gel. But got t'do it now, y'see, ‘fore all the young fellows come crowding ‘round in the spring. Nothing like springtime to make a lad start feeling his oats, eh what?"

Fili hadn't heard much after that. He'd paid for his meal and begged off any further conversation, blaming prior commitments as he hurried out the door. A few surreptitious inquiries at other establishments were all he needed to know that Lord Fribble was far from the first man to come seeking Sigrid's hand in marriage. Fribble was not even the most odious suitor to come visiting; at least according to the little girl he found feeding an apple to his pony. "One of ‘em was all spotty and ‘arf ‘is face were droopy," she informed him as she patted the pony's silky muzzle. "Oh, and there were that fella from up north what looked like a fish. ‘E didn't ‘arf ‘ave a mean streak, too. My Da called ‘im a right bastard..."

The ride back to the Lonely Mountain had been very lonely indeed.

"If I'd known you were so interested I'd have told you months back," Kili had told him that evening after supper, once Fili had spent a good twenty minutes railing at Bard's stupidity for subjecting his daughter to such ugly, evil-tempered, greedy, gluttonous pigs.

"What?" That had sent Fili into a stuttering silence. "You knew?"

"Course I knew. Unlike you, I'm not the heir. I'm the spare. It's my job to chat up our neighbors. I'm over at Bard's place at least once a month. Didn't you notice?"

Fili admitted he hadn't.

"That hurts, brother. That wounds me."

"Shut up. In case you didn't notice I'm busy trying to keep our house in order while you're out carousing with the natives."

"I don't carouse! Well, not much anyway."

"Why didn't you tell me? About Sigrid?"

"I didn't think you cared."

And that was it, wasn't it? Nobody knew he cared. Why should they? Fili hadn't spoken a word to anyone about what happened that afternoon in that secluded cove off Long Lake, and he knew Sigrid hadn't either. He didn't care what people thought of him, but he wouldn't stand for anyone sniggering about Sigrid.

They'd managed a few brief encounters – nothing more than a touch of a hand here or a fond smile there – in the immediate wake of their tryst, but then everything had simply gotten too much. Fili's duties in Erebor had grown exponentially, and Sigrid's duties as the Lady of Dale had kept her more and more at her father's home, overseeing the day to day administration of the town as her father worked on expanding Dale's influence and drawing in more trade. There had simply been no time to be together. There had been no time to even decide if being together was what they wanted.

And now he found out that for the past six months she'd been playing the unhappy hostess to an increasingly determined crowd of suitors, all of whom (in his mind's eye) were as bad as or worse than Fribble.

Naturally it had been Kili who'd come up with the idea to marry her. "You know, if it bothers you this much why don't you ask for her hand?" the younger dwarf had suggested after three weeks of Fili's increasingly-difficult-to-disguise gloom "Thorin's heir and the Lady of Dale? You've got to admit it sounds good."

"Don't be an ass, Kili. Just because you got your lady love doesn't mean everything can be fixed with pretty words and proclamations of affection."

As always his idiot brother couldn't stop smiling after the mention of Tauriel. "Who says I'm trying to fix anything? And anyway, if anything needs fixing it's your mood. Last time poor Ori came ‘round to call you to supper you nearly took his head off. I think a woman would do you well. Take the edge off."

"I'm Thorin's heir," Fili'd snapped. "I have to marry another dwarf. Who ever heard of a half-breed as King or Queen Under the Mountain?"

"I want you to think about what you just said when you've got a passel of nieces and nephews with pointy ears running around this place."

"Anyway, Sigrid would never say yes. What would she want with me? I'm a damn dwarf! She could have her pick of any of the men in Lake-town or Dale."

"But she hasn't picked any of them, so I don't think there're any she fancies. And she clearly doesn't like any of these prats who keep coming ‘round to ask her to marry them or she'd have said yes by now."

"Kili-"

"It's obvious you like her."

"Kili, shut up."

"I know you think you're subtle but you're not. I thought Sigrid had a bit of a one-sided crush on you, what with her always asking after you when I stop by for a visit. But it's not one-sided, is it? These last three weeks you've been ornery as a goblin, ever since you found out that there've been other fellows courting her. Fellows who aren't you."

"Kili. I said. Shut. Up."

And then Kili had said the seven most terrifying words Fili had ever heard; and he said them with a smile.

"Don't worry, brother. Leave it to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All righty, folks. That's all for now. I'm off to start working on chapter four! I hope you're enjoying it so far. ^_^


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a transition chapter, then some Fili/Sigrid reunion sweetness next chapter. ^_^

_I, Bard, Lord of Dale, hereby accept the offer presented by Prince Kili of Erebor and welcome Crown Prince Fili, heir to the King Under the Mountain, to court my daughter, the Lady Sigrid of Dale, for the period of one month. If at that time the Crown Prince has proven his sincerity in the desire to win my daughter's hand and heart, they shall have my blessing._

Fili read the note again. Then again. He'd read it so many times at this point that he was quite sure he could recite it from memory. “Kili, this is a terrible idea.”

“You've been saying that for the last hour, Fili,” Kili said, his attention focused on the braids he was currently plaiting into Tauriel's hair. The elf was sitting cross-legged on a trunk at the foot of Fili's bed as Kili sat behind her on the mattress. “Stop pacing before you wear a groove into your floor.”

“Tauriel, will you talk some sense into my brother?” Fili protested, waving Bard's missive at the pair of them. “I haven't the first clue how to court a human girl!”

“Is it so different from courting a dwarf lass?” Kili asked.

“Is courting an elf like courting a dwarf lass?” Fili shot back.

“Mm, point taken.” Kili finished his current braid and moved to a new one.

“Stop being so bloody calm about this, damn you. I'm your brother and you've gotten me into this mess. Help me!”

Kili sighed. “Tauriel, love, would you care to give my brother some feminine advice?”

The she-elf smiled gently. “Fili, Sigrid is a kind soul. She cares very much for you.”

“If you're about to tell me to just be myself, I may scream.”

She laughed softly. “Perhaps I am, at least in part. But I'm more inclined to tell you about her.” Tauriel gestured for him to sit beside her. She waited for him to get settled before she began to speak.

“You worry that you don't know how to court a human woman, Fili,” Tauriel soothed with a smile. “But Sigrid herself does not know how to be courted. She was forced at a very young age to become a mother to her siblings, a confidante to her father, and now a source of guidance and inspiration to her people. That is an awful lot for a young woman to fit into a short span of nineteen years. She has never had the luxury before to think about such things as courtship and marriage. It will be very new and strange to her, as it is to you. You mustn't be afraid of that strangeness, that newness. Embrace it, the pair of you. It will be easier for the both of you if you understand that you come from the same place.

“Remember, you are not Crown Prince Fili of Erebor courting the Lady Sigrid of Dale. You are simply Fili, and she is simply Sigrid, and you are both standing on a narrow road that may lead to happiness or to heartbreak. You must clear all other considerations from your mind. Do not think of Erebor. Do not think of Dale. Do not think of all that your peoples stand to gain or lose through this match, for it is neither Erebor nor Dale that will stand at the altar on your wedding day. Allow yourself to fall in love, Fili, and Sigrid as well. Do that and I promise you, your one month of courtship will pass like a beautiful dream.”

Kili beamed and leaned forward to press a kiss to Tauriel's cheek. “My lady is as wise as she is beautiful.”

“Thank you, my love.”

Fili frowned as he stared at the note in his hand, reading Bard's message again. “But... how am I to do it?” he asked, feeling suddenly very tired. When was the last time he'd had a full night's sleep, without being shaken awake at some unseemly hour to attend to some issue that could only be resolved by the Crown Prince? “I... care for Sigrid. If I am going to do this, I want to do it properly. But Kili, Tauriel – I have responsibilities. You tell me that I should not consider Erebor, but how can I not? Every moment I spend away from the mountain at milady's side is a moment I'm not attending to my duties. People _depend_ on me to be here. And Sigrid's people depend on her to be there, too.” He laughed but without any real humor. “I've spent the last year thinking of her, wishing that I could spare a few moments to be at her side, and now that I have an opportunity to do so I'm still as hamstrung as ever. I'm tied to this bloody mountain, tight as you like.”

If either Tauriel or Kili noticed his mention of a year they said nothing of it. “You know, you _do_ have a brother,” Kili remarked, weaving a line of beads into Tauriel's russet hair. “Quite a smart, dashing one at that. I imagine that, were you to ask him, he'd be quite happy to sit in the Crown Prince's stead for a time. Not long, mind you. A month perhaps.”

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea, _meleth nîn_ ,” Tauriel agreed with a fond smile.

“Thank you, little star.”

“Kili, it's not that easy,” Fili argued. “Do you even know what is expected of the Crown Prince? It's not simply nodding and signing royal proclamations.”

“All the more reason why I should spend some time in the seat, brother. It will give me some insight into what you do, so that I can be properly grateful that I am not the one who was born first.”

Fili rolled his eyes. “And you'd ask me to act in your stead during that time, I imagine.”

Kili gave him a wide-eyed look of surprise. “Fili, you genius. What a brilliant idea! You don't have enough opportunity to meet with our allies, I've always said so. I think a month out and about will give you a fresh perspective.”

“Yes, I expect it would.”

“So it's settled then.”

“What? Here, I didn't say-”

“Tauriel, will you help me choose something appropriate for a Crown Prince to wear?” Kili clambered off the bed and offered her his arm.

Tauriel accepted it with a bow of her head as she rose gracefully to her feet. “You forget, I am a simple Captain of the Guard, _meleth nîn_ ,” she reminded him as they began to walk from the room. “I know nothing of what is suitable for a royal of such standing to wear.”

Fili hopped to his feet. “Excuse me, you two, but I never said I agree-”

“Don't be coy, little star. You spent centuries with that preening popinjay in Mirkwood. What's his name? Leggy Lass?”

Tauriel laughed softly. “I believe you mean Legolas, my prince.”

“Yeah, that one. You know, it's a good thing you found me before you did something silly like marry him.”

Fili watched them go. It was useless arguing with Kili when he got an idea like this in his head, and with Tauriel on his side it was a waste of time to even try.

_Damn and blast. Damn, damn and double blast._

He glared at his reflection in the mirror beside his wardrobe. All dressed in his finest, gold flashing in his hair and beard, looking every inch the Crown Prince he was.

 _But I'm not the Crown Prince, now am I? I'm just Fili._ He plucked at his royal robe: rich purple velvet edged with ermine. _This'll never do. Fili'd never wear something as damn foolish as this. Sigrid'd laugh herself silly._

Though it must be said, Sigrid did have a beautiful laugh...

He looked his reflection square in the eye and grinned. _Time to go a-courtin', m'lad._

 

+&+&+&+&+&+&+&+&+

 

“Arrrgh! Does this damned garden grow nothing but stones? Mmf!”

Sigrid heaved the palm-sized rock into the corner of the garden and sat back on her heels, puffing a stray lock of honey blond hair out of her eyes. The April sun was bright and warm and the air felt stuffy in the walled off garden behind the Lord's Manse.

Garden? Hardly. This herb garden wasn't anywhere close to being an actual garden yet, and it wasn't going to be one until she'd managed to get all these blasted rocks out of the soil. Still, it gave her something to keep her hands occupied, and left her mind blank enough to dwell on thoughts of handsome dwarf princes with beaded braids and kind blue eyes.

There'd been no response from Erebor since her father sent the pigeon the previous day. Sigrid didn't know what that meant. Was that good? Bad? Would Fili agree to court her? They'd never made each other any promises. Maybe she didn't mean as much to him as he meant to her. What _did_ he mean to her? Thinking about him made her chest feel tight and her bones feel like butter, but was that love? Did they need love to be happy?

If Fili didn't love her, who would?

“Arrrgh!” she snarled again, hacking around the edges of another large rock with her spade. This one was twice as big as a goose egg. She pried it out of the ground , reveling in the feel of the earth giving way under her fingers. Gardening, she decided, was so much easier to manage than love. When you pulled up a stone, you could see it. It was what it was, no artifice or misdirection. It was real, and it was solid, and it was heavy. You could use it to grind wheat into flour, or to build a house. It was useful; practical. Not at all like love.

“Hello, Sigrid.”

“AHHHH!” The unexpected voice made her scream. She spun around, arm extended, rock clutched in her hand. She felt it connect with something warm and solid.

“OW!” the warm thing exclaimed, stumbling backward and clutching its face.

Face. Stumbling. A person.

“By Durin's double-damned beard!”

Not just any person. A dwarf.

A dwarf with... blond hair...

Sigrid's eyes widened in shock. “Oh!” The rock fell from her hand as her fingers sprung open. “Oh, Valar! Fili!”

 

* _meleth nîn_ : “My love” (Sindarin)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, the lovebirds get to spend some time together!
> 
> I don't know why it took me so danged long to write this chapter. I blame work, which has been hellaciously busy the last few weeks and shows no signs of slowing down any time soon. I'll try to be better with chapter 6!
> 
> Finally, thank you to everyone who has been kind enough to leave comments and kudos. I'm terrible at responding, but please know that all your good wishes are very much appreciated. I'm so glad that others are as in love with this pairing as I am!
> 
> * * *

“I am so, so sorry.”

Fili winced as Sigrid fussed around him. She'd hustled him into the kitchen and sat him down at the table, and now she was poking at his face to judge the swelling. “It's fine, Sigrid, really.”

“It's not fine. I nearly brained you with a rock! Here, this should help a bit.” A cold, wet compress, fragrant with herbs, was pressed over his eye. “Hold that in place.”

“I'm a dwarf, Sigrid. We've got hard heads. It'd take more than a little rock to do me in.” The compress _was_ helping with the pain, though. Fili pressed it a little tighter against his face. “I've got worse just waking Kili up after a night of drinking. That lad's got a right hook like a hammer.”

“I'm glad one of us can joke.” Sigrid plunked down in a chair beside him. “You're not the one who nearly murdered her suitor in the herb garden.” 

It sounded so ridiculous. It _was_ ridiculous. Fili's lips twitched as he fought to hold in a laugh.

Sigrid squinted at him. “Here, are you laughing?”

“No. Never.” He bit his lip.

“You _are_. Fili, this is serious!” But now she was fighting down giggles as well. 

“Yes, very. Very serious.”

They managed to hold on to their composure for a full five seconds longer – which made Fili quite proud – but soon enough they were both laughing.

“Not exactly the most auspicious start to this whole courtship, was it?” Fili offered as their laughter faded to comfortable smiles. 

Sigrid reached up to gently tug aside his compress and see how the swelling was doing. Her hands were dirty from the garden, soil caked under her nails. “This whole situation is strange,” she admitted, coaxing him to put the compress back, satisfied with his progress. “I don't really know what we're supposed to do.”

“Neither do I. I've never tried courting anyone before. Forgive me if I do something stupid, yeah?”

She offered him a wry smile. “You mean like smacking me 'cross the face with a rock because you think I'm a bloodthirsty criminal?”

He winked. “Nah, I'd never do anything that stupid.”

Sigrid's cheeks went pink and she pushed playfully at his shoulder. “Silly brute.” 

Her hand lingered there for a moment, fingering the fine, sturdy weave of his traveling coat. Slowly her touch swept up from his shoulder to cup the good side of his face. 

“I've missed you,” she murmured. Her gentle fingers stroked his bristly cheek, sending sparks down Fili's spine. 

“I've missed you, too.” He caught her free hand and laced their fingers. “My pretty Sigrid...”

“Am I?” she whispered. “Yours?”

Fili brought her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over her knuckles. “You already have _me_ , milady,” he murmured against her fingers. “My blood and my bone. I can think of no greater honor than if you would consent to be mine in return.”

They were quiet for a moment, and Fili let himself revel in the sheer fact of her presence. She smelled like sunlight and warm soil, with hints of winter wool layered over summer cotton. It was embarrassing how badly he wanted to press his face into her hair and see if it still smelled like lavender as it had by the lake. 

He felt Sigrid's other hand pluck at his compress, pulling it away from his face, and he looked up to see her laying it on the tabletop. “I think we're doing this backward,” she said, looking back to him as she folded the cloth aside. Her misty gray eyes looked blue in the midday light that streamed through the kitchen window. 

“Oh?” Whatever herbs had been in the compress had worked fast, and Fili was pleased to find that his eye felt less swollen. “How so?”

“Before we go making proclamations of forever, you're supposed to woo me.”

Fili raised his eyebrows. “You don't think I've exhibited proper wooing behavior, milady?”

“No.”

“What have I neglected?”

“Well for one you haven't _once_ tried to kiss me.”

Fili's eyes dropped to her lips, still as petal pink and full as he remembered from the lake. “Aye, you've a point there, lass. Shall I remedy that?”

“I don't know.” Her back went very straight and she pulled away from him, crossing her hands primly in her lap. “That sort of thing is not _done_ so early in a courtship, milord.” But her eyes were twinkling.

“Is that so?” Fili slid forward until he was sitting on the edge of his seat, then leaned in till he was nose to nose with her. “I shall keep that in mind. I shouldn't want to offend the delicate sensibilities of milady's kinsmen.” His fingers danced up her arm and shoulder to trace the shell of her ear. “Tell me, what else is not 'done'?”

The way she shivered under his touch was magical. “You're sitting very close, highness,” she murmured. “People may get ideas.”

“There's no one else here.” His hand moved higher to brush a flyaway tress of honey blond hair out of her eyes. “Just you and me, lass.”

“Yes,” she murmured, staring into his eyes with obvious desire. Fili could recognize the smoldering want he saw in her gaze. It was a perfect mirror of his own arousal. “Scandalous.”

“Aye, disgraceful.”

“Da out on patrol,” Sigrid continued, her eyes tracing the strong contours of his face. “Tilda and Bain at lessons. The cook not due till tonight, and no other servants due today...” Her hand moved up to cradle his cheek, her thumb stroking the braids of his mustache. “We're so very, very alone. Anything could happen.”

Fili tilted his head to press a kiss to the heel of her hand before returning his gaze to hers. “A man might take it into his head to steal a lady's virtue under such conditions.” 

“Aye,” Sigrid whispered, breathless. “And she might let him.”

One of them closed the distance between their mouths, but Fili couldn't have said who moved first. 

 

+%+%+%+%+%+%+%+%+

 

_Oh Valar... don't let this be a dream, please..._

Sigrid was floating. If she opened her eyes and looked down she was certain she'd see the tops of clouds. 

Fili's mouth was delicious, his beard a blessedly welcome rasp against her skin. He smelled like horse and snow, and she remembered that the peak of Erebor was still winter white. Every sensation seemed heightened, and when he dropped his hand from her cheek to rest in the curve of her waist she gasped into his mouth, the touch sending a silver bolt of stimulation straight to her core. 

“Mahal, I've wanted to kiss you,” Fili breathed against her lips. “I've wanted to kiss you since the last time I kissed you. And when I leave here today, I'll be wanting to kiss you till the next time I get a chance to do just that.”

“Just kiss?” The voice couldn't be her own; the Lady of Dale would never be so forward. But she felt her mouth form the words and saw the way Fili's pupils dilated in response. 

Sigrid gasped as she felt herself lifted out of her chair and settled on the dwarf's lap. “Oh, lass, I want to do ever so much more than kiss you.” His voice was ragged, mouth pressed against her jaw. The arm around her waist tightened. “The things I want to do with you... they're not the things you do with the lass you're courting. They're the things you do when the courting's done.”

Sigrid nuzzled his nose, her lips grazing his. “Tell me,” she whispered. “Tell me what we'd do together, were our courting done.”

The soft summer blue of Fili's eyes smoldered deepest sapphire. “I'd start with your hair,” he murmured, his voice rumbling in his chest and shivering through Sigrid's body like the roll of faraway thunder. “I'd let down your braids and pull my comb through that gossamer honey till it was smooth as milk and silky fine.” The arm that wasn't around her waist moved as his hand drifted up to brush the nape of her neck. She gasped softly at the heat of his fingers. 

“Then I'd open your dress,” he breathed, his lips grazing her cheek like butterflies. “Nice and slow. I'd take my time with you, because it's been so long, lass. If I let myself go too fast I'll miss getting to see you blush that warm rosy pink from the roots of your hair all down to your belly.”

“Fili,” Sigrid whimpered as his hand drifted down from her nape to rest on her chest, the tips of his fingers brushing the hollow of her throat.

He kissed her, but barely. Enough to make her yearn toward him, seeking more. “This time I'd make sure to kiss your breasts,” he purred against her lips, curling his hand to cup her breast through her dress with maddening delicacy. “I'd make sure to take them in my mouth and taste my fill. That may take a long time, lass, because I don't think I can ever taste you enough. I'll not be satisfied till I've memorized every flavor your body offers.”

“Are there... so many?” Sigrid forced her eyes open, trying to focus on his face. Her cheeks burned, though not as hot as the soft, persistent throb between her legs. She wondered if Fili could feel the pulse against his thighs through her skirts.

“As many flavors as there are places to kiss, pretty Sigrid.” Fili's eyes were all pupil, black and liquid, ringed with blazing blue. “And there are so many places still to kiss.”

Kissing sounded like a wonderful idea. Catching his face between her palms, Sigrid pulled the dwarf prince in for a desperate, aching kiss. She poured every ounce of her loneliness, insecurity, wistfulness and hope into the action, trying to describe through touch and taste how much she'd missed him, and how she never wanted him to leave her side again. 

“Stay,” she panted into his mouth when they finally broke for air. “Stay with me. I'll convince Da to say yes and we'll be married. I don't want to wait for you, my Fili. My prince. I've already waited so long.”

Fili moaned quietly and pulled her into a hug, tucking his face into the curve of her shoulder as he cradled the back of her head. “If I thought your Da would agree, my pretty Sigrid, I'd fall on my knees and beg him for your hand,” he rasped against her neck. “But I must convince him, lass. I owe Bard that much in exchange for stealing away his daughter. I owe him the peace of mind that comes of knowing his eldest is going to live the rest of her life with a dwarf who'd fetch her the sun and moon from the sky if she wanted them.”

She clung to him, breathing in his rugged, masculine scent, pressing her nose into his thick blond hair. “But not the stars?” she murmured, trying to sound playful, but it came out breathless and desperate instead.

Fili's mouth pressed a lingering kiss beneath her ear. “Got to leave something for Kili to steal for his elf lady, don't I?” Sigrid could feel his smile. “It's the least a brother can do.”

A laugh bubbled past her lips. “Aye. You're a good brother, Fili.”

“I'll be an even better husband, Sigrid.” His tone was serious again, earnest and resolute. “By Mahal's hammer, I swear I'll make you the happiest maid ever to walk in the sun or dwell under the mountain.”

Sigrid pulled back just enough to rest her forehead against his and gazed into Fili's eyes, now as blue as the heart of Long Lake. 

“I know you will, my Fili,” she whispered, twining her fingers in his hair. “And in one month's time, Da will know, too.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit longer than my other chapters, but I didn't want to break up the flow. ^_^

“Fili? What're you doing in my closet?” Kili leaned against the door frame and watched his brother with amusement.

“Where's the box of mother's ornaments?” Fili asked, clawing through Kili's assorted flotsam and jetsam. “What the hell is this?”

“A stuffed vulture.”

“Why do you have it?”

Kili shrugged. “Someone has to.”

“What? No, someone does no- You know what? I don't care.” Fili chucked the taxidermied bird at his brother and dove back into the fray.

Kili tucked the vulture under his arm and watched for a few minutes as Fili dug through his brother's assorted piles of clutter and detritus. When they'd officially taken up residence in Erebor their chambers had been quite bare, which wasn't a problem since their individual belongings would arrive with the rest of the contingent from Ered Luin now that the Lonely Mountain was reclaimed. Once that contingent had arrived, however, what with one thing and another – not least of which being Kili's infatuation with a certain she-elf that kept him occupied during every waking moment – Kili had never gotten around to actually bothering to unpack. Instead he'd gone the time-honored route of shoving everything into his closet, trusting that if he needed something he'd be able to find it. It had necessitated the introduction of an entirely separate wardrobe into his room so he would have somewhere to hold his clothes.

“Which box of ornaments are you looking for then?” he asked after several humorous minutes spent watching his brother dig through a trunk full of old toys. “And what makes you think I'd have it anyway? Shouldn't you ask mother?”

“Mother is still wintering in the Iron Hills, so I can't very well ask her, now can I?”

“You could send her a pigeon.”

“Considering the last pigeon I sent her was the one to tell her I'm courting Bard's daughter and I've yet to hear back, I don't think I'd like to send another along to ask where I can find some courting beads. I don't think she's too pleased with me.” Fili picked up a wooden marionette that had worked its way to the top of the toy box. It was a jointed wooden doll meant to resemble an elf with a particularly ugly face. He and Kili had often used it for target practice with their slingshots as children. “This brings back memories, eh?”

“Aye.” Kili grinned and grabbed it from his hand. “Looks a bit like that prancing ninny prince, doesn't it?” He made the marionette do a little dance. 

“Considering you're supposed to be the ambassador to our neighbors, Kili, it would probably be a good idea to stop referring to the Prince of Mirkwood as a prancing ninny.”

“Tauriel thinks it's endearing.”

“Tauriel thinks the way you scratch your arse is endearing. You'll pardon me if I don't take her somewhat biased judgment as gospel.” With a frustrated sigh he sat back on his heels. “It's not here. I know you've got it, Kili. Those pretty twinkles you've been braiding into Tauriel's hair didn't come out of thin air. Where is it?”

“If you really must know, it's in Tauriel's chamber.”

Fili sighed and rubbed his face. “Course it is. You spend more time there than here, so I really shouldn't be surprised you've taken to leaving your things in her room.” Several months' worth of dust worked into his nostrils and he gave a loud sneeze. “Oh, bollocks.”

“Come on, brother,” Kili said with a cheerful smile, tucking the vulture back into an alcove and holding out his free hand to help haul Fili to his feet. “Leggy Lass and I will show you the way. Lead on, Leggy.” He affected a little bow with the marionette before letting it lead the way out of the closet and through the bedchamber to the corridor.

“Endearing or not, Tauriel can't possibly like the way you constantly insult her friend, Kili,” Fili remarked. “She's known him for six hundred years.”

His younger brother shrugged. “She knows it's just words. 'Sides, he's called me worse. You know he calls me a smelly goblin whelp? Tauriel thinks it's hilarious.” He made the marionette trip. “Hah! But I'm the one she comes home to at night, eh? I win.”

Fili rolled his eyes. “You sound immature as a beardless dwarfling who's still learning his runes, not a prince who's near 80.”

“Aye. And the twinkle-toed tree dweller is nearly three thousand years old. What's his excuse?”

They'd reached Tauriel's quarters by now and Kili thrust the marionette into Fili's hands so he could knock unencumbered. “ _Little star, little star?_ ” he sang. “ _Tell me, please, oh where you are._ ”

“Oh, Mahal,” Fili groaned. “And you call yourself a dwarf.”

“Dwarves like a good song,” Kili grinned as the door swung open to reveal Tauriel's slender form. She was dressed in a flowing emerald gown of dwarfish make, edged in silver and pintucked at the waist to highlight her delicate figure. “My lady!”

“My prince.” The elf executed a flawless curtsey, first to Kili, then, deeper still, to Fili. “Your highness.”

“You look fair as the purest mithril, my love,” Kili remarked, taking her hands and letting her guide him into her chamber.

Tauriel's eyes shone with delight as she sank down to press a kiss to first one then the other of Kili's cheeks. “And you are handsome as the mightiest oak outfitted in all its summer finery, _meleth nin_.”

Fili resisted the urge to go and be sick in the nearest corner. “Tauriel, I hate to be a bother,” he spoke up, “but Kili tells me he's left our mother's jewelry box here. Would you mind if I had a look?” It was best to be quick and to the point with these two when they were making doe eyes at each other, else the unwitting observer was likely to have to sit through two hours of love poetry before getting an answer to the simplest question. 

Tauriel tore her gaze away from Kili's dark brown eyes and gave Fili a brilliant smile. “You seek a decoration for Sigrid.” It wasn't a question. 

“Aye.”

“My besotted brother is looking for courting beads,” Kili explained, raising a hand to trail his fingers over the intricate beaded braid that rested against Tauriel's pale cheek. She leaned into the touch.

_And the lovesick oaf calls_ me _besotted._ “If you'll just be showing me where it is I'll be out of your hair before you can say 'peppered poultry pinch of sage.'”

The she-elf's musical laugh bounced around the room as she stood up, her fingers laced with Kili's. “Of course, highness. And you needn't hurry off. I should like to hear how your courtship fares thus far.”

“Especially considering you came home last time sporting a bloody great black eye,” Kili grinned.

Fili refused to blush as he followed the pair deeper into Tauriel's room. “I explained about that, you twit. It was a misunderstanding.” And thankfully the bruising had all but disappeared in the three days since. “Tonight I'm to have supper with her family, and I've asked that tomorrow she show me around Dale. I've not gotten to see it in its entirety since it's been rebuilt.”

“And it'll give Sigrid a chance to show off her strapping dwarf suitor,” Kili observed with a knowing smile. “Clever, Fili.”

“Will you be spending the overnight in Dale then?” Tauriel asked, releasing Kili's hand so she could lift Dis's familiar gilded jewelry box out of the cupboard that abutted the intricately carved door that led to her private terrace overlooking Mirkwood. 

“Aye.”

“Why Fili,” Kili gasped, eyes wide with feigned scandal. “I never thought you'd be so forward! And so early in your courtship!”

“Shut it, you. I'll be staying at the Lord's Wind Lance.”

Tauriel laughed again and held out the box to him. “I look forward to hearing happy tidings when you return. What is that?” Her curious gaze had landed on the marionette he still held in one hand.

“Ah. It's an old toy.” Fili grinned. “Kili can tell you all about it. Eh, Kili?” He fought to hold in a snigger as he traded the marionette for the jewelry box.

“Is this supposed to be an elf?” Tauriel asked, lifting the doll up to peer at its pockmarked features. “Has it been through a battle?”

Kili shot his brother a Look before turning back to Tauriel. “Many battles, little star,” he crooned, taking her hand. “And still as vital as ever. Shall we make him beautiful again, together? A bit of sandpaper and some paint will have him good as new.”

She beamed at him. “That would be lovely, my prince. And you can tell me how he came to be so wounded.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “I suspect he had a fair few tousles with dwarves in his youth. Naughty creatures.”

“Aye. Smelly goblin whelps, the lot of them.”

Fili left them like that, jewelry box tucked under his arm. Sometimes he wondered what the pretty she-elf found so enchanting about his clodpated, irritating, bloody stubborn brother, but all it took was a smile from her for Fili to understand why Kili loved her so dearly. 

It was the same way Sigrid smiled at him. 

 

%+%+%+%+%+%+%+%+%+%+

 

Dame Meera and her daughters had outdone themselves on that evening's supper, but Sigrid found she was too nervous to do more than nibble on each course as it was served. By the time the dessert was presented – a delightful trifle that made Tilda giggle eagerly – she found she could barely eat more than a spoonful.

Fili sat across from her, looking golden and powerful, all broad shoulders and bright smiles. If he was as nervous as she was he did a fine job hiding it, laughing as he shared stories of his childhood and life in Erebor. Sigrid herself sat to her father's right, Bain at her left shoulder, placing Fili at her father's left with Tilda beside him. Tilda, too young to notice the tension on her sister's face, peppered him with questions. 

“Do you have proper baths in the mountain?”

“Oh, aye. Fed by hot springs from deep in the earth, warmed by Mahal's own forge.”

“Is it true the walls are painted with gold?”

“No, though there are so many fine ornaments scattered about that it dazzles the eye.”

“Do dwarves really pop out of the ground when they're born, or do they have a mum and a da like we do?

“We have a mother and father, just like the children of Men. My mother Dis has spent this past winter in the Iron Hills with my cousin Dain, who rules there. When she returns in the summer I shall introduce her to you. She's fond of children, though she claims Kili and I were proper orc spawn when we were dwarflings.”

“Enough, Tilda,” Bard laughed softly as the little girl opened her mouth for another spate of questions. “Prince Fili is our guest, not our prisoner. Your interrogation will have to continue at another time.”

“Oh.” The little girl pouted and swirled her spoon around in her dessert dish, scooping up the last of the cake and fruit from her trifle. 

Fili grinned. “It is quite all right, Lord Bard. I realize that there is much about dwarf life and culture that is somewhat of a mystery to Men. It's my pleasure to share what I can, especially as I hope to make the Lady Sigrid comfortable enough with life under the mountain that she will consent to be my bride.” He gave her a cheeky grin and Sigrid couldn't resist a blush, even if her stomach was twisting in knots. 

“Some people say that there aren't a lot of dwarf women,” Bain piped up beside Sigrid. “That the reason we don't ever see them is because you keep them locked away like a treasure hoard.”

“Bain!” Sigrid hissed, smacking his arm. “Don't you dare be so rude! Apologize this instant!”

Fili raised his hand. “No, Sigrid, it's a fair point. Indeed, Master Bain, dwarf women are a rarity. We prize them highly, and it is a lucky dwarf indeed who finds himself a lass who will be his wife. My own uncle, King Under the Mountain, has never found one for himself. My mother has never remarried since my father passed into the halls of our fathers when Kili and I were knee high to a gnat.” 

He laughed softly. “But never think that we keep our dwarrowdams hidden away. They'd not stand for it. It's true they often prefer to spend their time at home, in front of hearth and forge, but they rule their homes with an iron fist, and their men with tongues sharp as a sword's edge.”

“Sounds like Sig,” Bain grinned, and she smacked him again, blushing furiously.

Fili bowed his head to hide his wide smile. “Aye. That is how I know she will be a fine queen when I am called to take the throne after Thorin. A good dwarf needs a strong lady to keep his head on straight and his eyes clear. _A good beard makes a dwarf wise, and a good wife makes him honest_. So say the greybeards.”

“Sig'll do that,” Bain agreed, nodding. “She used to drag me around by the ear when I told a fib.”

“Ooh, you should've heard Sig yell!” Tilda laughed. “Sometimes she screeches so that you think the paint'll come off the walls!”

“Oh, Valar,” Sigrid groaned, mortified. 

Bard chose then to speak. He'd listened most of the evening, nodding with interest and posing the occasional question but letting the conversation largely originate with Fili. “You're crown prince of Erebor, master dwarf,” he said, his voice even. “I am quite sure, now that your kingdom is restored, you would have little difficulty finding a proper dwarf lady to wed, even though they number so few. Why then have you chosen to pursue my daughter?”

Ah. There was the question Sigrid had been dreading all night. She was glad now that she'd barely touched her meal, as her stomach began to flip-flop like a beached fish. 

To his credit Fili didn't flinch away from the question. He took a moment to sip his wine as he collected his thoughts before answering. “I could say a great many things in answer to that question, my lord, and they would all be true, ” he said at last. “I cannot deny that there are many in Erebor, and among the rest of my dwarf kin, who would prefer I take a fellow dwarrow to wife. Indeed, I'm sure that there are many Men who would prefer that the Lady Sigrid wed a Man, regardless of the wealth and security I can offer her as the heir to the King Under the Mountain. Such prejudices are old and difficult to uproot. They grow deep and are tangled in history, like so many threads in a tapestry. I would hope that a union between our two peoples would go a little way toward healing some of the wounds our races have inflicted on each other over the centuries.”

“So you see my Sigrid as a means to that end?” Bard's even tone had quickly gone sharp, cutting to the bone.

Fili smiled kindly. “I said I could answer your question many ways, Lord Bard, and they'd all be true. What I've just said is perhaps the most acceptable answer, at least to the casual observer. But neither you nor I are casual observers; nor especially Sigrid, around whom this courtship revolves.”

He set aside his wine goblet and looked Bard square in the eye. “A wise woman told me that, in courtship, I mustn't think about how the outcome might benefit or detract from the fortunes of my people, because it is not Erebor that will stand at the altar on my wedding day, anymore than it will be the land of my bride that will stand opposite me. Before our people can come to trust and cherish each other, it is most important that we two learn to do the same. My bride must trust and cherish me, as I must trust and cherish her.” 

His eyes moved to Sigrid and he smiled fondly. “I have trusted the Lady Sigrid since the day Smaug fell from the sky, and there is nothing I've yet learned of her that would keep her from stealing my heart away.” His eyes sparkled. “I would even like to hear this fabled screech of hers that peels paint from the walls. That sounds ever so dwarfish.”

Sigrid looked away, feeling warm from head to toe (though she couldn't tell if it was from happiness or embarrassment).

“Meaning what, master dwarf?” Bard asked sharply, and Sigrid wanted to stomp on his foot for breaking into Fili's beautiful world of words in such a harsh fashion. “Speak plainly. We are plain people.”

Fili sat up straight, looking every inch the prince he was. “I should like to wed your daughter, Lord Bard, because I have been a little bit in love with her since the day our company first climbed up through your privy in Lake-town. Since that seed was planted it's only grown bigger, and now I find I'm quite unable to imagine anyone else by my side. And while I can't speak for Sigrid's heart, I can promise that I will do all in my power to earn her favor as she has earned mine.” 

Silence reigned over the table for what felt like hours. Sigrid didn't dare breathe. He'd said he loved her. He'd said it, bold as brass. Right there, for the entire world to hear, in front of her father and all.

“Mmm,” Bard finally hummed, and Sigrid didn't know what to make of that. Was it a good hum? A bad hum? A confused hum? Why did her father always have to be such an infernal puzzle!

Tilda fidgeted beside Fili. “You really feel all that for our Sig?” she asked shyly.

Fili nodded. “Aye, and more.”

The little girl smiled up at him. “I believe you. You've got such pretty blue eyes, and they show everything. You can't tell a lie to save your life.”

“Tilda!” Sigrid hissed, blushing.

Fili laughed. “Aye, that's true enough. My mother could tell you stories. I'm not much good with words, though; not like Kili. It's hard for me to say the things I'm feeling.”

He looked quickly to Sigrid, then to Bard. “In that vein, my lord, I'd like to ask for some time alone with the Lady Sigrid.”

Bard sat up straighter, as did Bain, both going into protective mode. “Pardon?” her father asked sharply.

Fili held up his hands to placate them. “I assure you, Lord Bard, Master Bain, I mean nothing untoward. There are just certain things a dwarf does when courting that are meant to be shared only with the object of his affection. I swear on the name of Durin I will do nothing to sully the Lady's honor. I would sooner shave my beard and foreswear the forge.” 

“Nonetheless, it is highly inappropriate. I cannot consent-”

“Da, please.” Sigrid was surprised she could summon her voice, but she pressed on. “I trust him. Do you trust me?”

Her father gave her a pained look. “Sigrid,” he murmured, squeezing her hand atop the table. “Of course I trust you, my girl.”

She gave him an affectionate smile. “Then trust me now. Besides, if the prince should overstep his bounds I'll give him a sample of my paint-peeling screech and you lot can come running to my rescue.”

Bard still looked uneasy. Beside her Sigrid could feel Bain shifting uncomfortably, his protectiveness and loyalty to their father warring with what he knew of Fili's amiability and friendship. 

In the end it was Tilda who jumped up from the table and grabbed Fili's hand. “Come on, Fili,” she said, tugging him up from the table. “You can use the sitting room. That's where Da meets with all the big muckity mucks when they come 'round for dinner. It's got a nice big fire and plenty of windows. You can see the whole city!” 

_And the whole city can see in, if they want,_ Sigrid thought, fighting down a grin. _Hardly a lover's hideaway. Well done, Tilda._ Her little sister was proving to be quite the cunning little matchmaker. _Perhaps she's been conniving with Kili._

Sigrid stood from the table, Bard and Bain following suit. “You have half an hour, lass,” her father said, his voice soft but stern. “Then we'll be seeing his highness to his horse. No arguments.”

Sigrid beamed and nodded. “Yes, Da. I understand.” She kissed his cheek, then did the same for Bain, pausing to ruffle her brother's hair before following Tilda and Fili from the room.

 

+%+%+%+%+%+%+%+%+%+

 

“Bloody hell,” Fili groaned once the sitting room door was closed and he and Sigrid were alone. He leaned heavily against the door, taking deep breaths through his nose. “I can't feel my legs.”

“Are you all right, highness?” Sigrid asked, her eyebrow raised with amusement. She'd taken a seat on a plush sofa beside the hearth, and the flickering firelight lit her up in shades of orange and gold. “You look a little green.”

“I've never been so damn scared in my life,” he admitted. “I've faced dragons and orcs and my own uncle sick with gold fever, and not a one of them can hold a candle to your father.”

She laughed. “Really? I thought you were wonderful.”

Fili managed a smile. “Aye, well, I can't tell a lie to save my life, but you'll never meet a better actor in all of Arda.”

He pushed away from the door and crossed the room to sit beside her on the sofa, careful to leave a respectable distance between them. Sigrid's face was soft with affection and he would have given all the gold in Erebor to kiss her right then. Instead he reached into his pocket. 

Her eyes followed the movement and she smiled curiously as he held out his hand to her. “What's this?” she asked, opening her own hand to receive what he had to give her.

“Courting beads,” he said, pressing four round beads into her palm. They were mithril embedded with sapphire; silver and blue, like her eyes. 

“Oh, Fili,” she breathed, brushing her fingers over the delicately engraved beads. “They're beautiful...” 

“When a dwarf lad is courting his lass, he braids these into her hair,” he told her softly. “That way the other lads know she's spoken for. If she breaks off the courtship she gives them back to her poor, broken-hearted suitor. But if she accepts him, she wears them till their wedding day.” He smiled and cradled her hand with his own. “Then the lad takes them from her hair on the wedding night.”

Sigrid blushed, her cheeks going a rosy pink in the firelight. “Did you make these for me?”

It was Fili's turn to blush. “They're my mother's,” he told her softly. “My father... they say when he courted her the whole of Ered Luin could hear her walking for all the beads clattering in her hair. Every hue and color of the rainbow.”

“He must have loved her very much,” Sigrid murmured, watching him with soft eyes.

“Aye. And she him. She always said that when it came time for me and Kili to find our brides that she wanted us to use her beads, since they'd brought such good fortune to her.” He took one of the beads from her palm. “If you'll let me, Sigrid, I'd... I'd like to...”

Sigrid beamed and nodded. “Please, Fili. I'd be honored to wear your braid.”

Fili let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding. “Thank you,” he said, nodding. “No, it's okay,” he added as she started to turn around. “The courting braid... it goes in the front.”

“Oh?” She turned back to face him. “Why?”

He stroked a finger down her nose, laughing softly as her eyes crossed a little to follow the motion. “So the lad can look in his lady's eyes while he does it.”

“Oh...” Sigrid giggled and shifted a little closer on the sofa, leaning forward to give him easier access. 

Her hair was done up in a loose bun that fell around her shoulders in silky soft waves as she loosed the pins that held it in place. Fili combed his fingers gently through the honey-colored tresses before separating out a section to braid.

“Did you mean what you said?” Sigrid asked as he began the intricate plait. “About loving me since Lake-town?”

“I did.”

“Why've you not told me before?” Her eyes were wide and curious.

Fili chuckled. “Kili's the romantic and Ori's the wordsmith. I'd just trip over my tongue like a daft, giddy fool if I tried to tell my girl I loved her.”

Sigrid wiggled happily. “Your girl?”

“Aye. Oi, don't fidget,” he laughed. “Else I'll have to start over.”

“You didn't trip over your tongue at the table,” she pointed out, holding up her hand so he could take the first bead to weave into her hair.

“I was too scared your father would put an arrow through my eye if I said the wrong thing.”

“So fear loosens your tongue? Mmm, I'll remember that.”

“Oh Mahal, that sounds ominous.”

They shared a laugh then lapsed into comfortable silence, listening to the crackle of the fire and the muffled sounds of the nighttime city beyond the windows.

“Lady Tauriel's worn her courting braid for a long time,” Sigrid spoke at last. 

“That's true. Gold and green, those are her beads. Kili says they remind him of Mirkwood.” He finished weaving in the second bead.

“Why haven't she and Kili married yet?”

“Tradition.”

“Hmm?”

“In noble dwarf families it's frowned upon for the younger siblings to marry before the eldest.”

“So they're waiting for you to get married first?”

“That's the long and short of it.”

Sigrid frowned, a furrow forming between her brows. “That doesn't seem very fair. What if you never found a bride?”

“Hopefully that question will be moot in a month's time.” Fili smiled. “And knowing Kili he'd have gotten fed up with waiting soon enough and wed his pretty elf maid in some fairyland ceremony under the stars, custom or no custom.” He sighed. “And like as not have a few dozen _more_ sagas written about them as a result. Dwarves love a good romance, and those two are disgustingly infatuated with each other.”

“I think they're lovely,” Sigrid protested, poking his thigh good-naturedly. “There's nothing wrong with romance.”

“Now you sound like Kili.” 

“Thank you.”

Fili grinned and fastened off the third bead. “Kili wears his heart on his sleeve, it's true, and I tease him about it, but romance is part of our soul. Dwarves have got a reputation for being greedy little bastards with hearts of stone, but that's not true. We're a passionate race. To make something precious you often have to heat the raw material till it glows and flows. Dwarves love like they craft: blazing hot and beautiful, made to last and endure all hardships.” 

Sigrid smiled fondly. “That's like poetry.”

Fili kissed her nose. “What of Men?” He slipped the last bead onto the braid and began the final plaits. 

“How do we love?”

“Aye.”

“I don't know,” she admitted. “Sometimes it seems we don't love at all. Others it seems we love too much. We're shorter-lived than the other races. I think we're always in such a rush to make our lives seem worthwhile before they're over that sometimes we try too hard or not hard enough at the things that really matter. Like love.” 

Her hand came up to rest against his as he finished the braid, holding his palm against her cheek. “I hope that I love like my Da loved my mum,” she murmured, gazing into his eyes. “Like he still loves her, though she's been gone so many years now. When he speaks of her he looks a little sad, but then you can hear how happy he is to have the memory of her.” She closed her eyes. “I want to leave a happy memory when I'm gone, so that my love will always smile.”

Fili's heart lurched and he raised his other hand to cradle her face between his palms. “Don't go talking about leaving, all right?” he chided softly as she opened her eyes again. “You've got a good long time still until that day comes, and I'm going to see to it that every single day 'tween now and then's happy and full. Understand?”

She nodded and leaned into his touch. “You don't have to be afraid of my Da,” she said softly. “He acts like a guard dog but his bark's worse than his bite.”

“Aye, but his bow's worse than his bark.”

Sigrid laughed quietly and lowered his hands to his lap before reaching up to touch the intricate braid that rested against her cheek. “I wish I had my hand mirror so I could see. It feels beautiful.”

“It is,” Fili murmured, “on account of it being on you.”

Sigrid giggled and pushed lightly at his chest. “You don't half like to flatter, master dwarf,” she teased. Eyes sparkling she reached behind her neck and began to fiddle.

Fili frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Just got to get this unfastened...”

His eyes widened. “Here, what? Sigrid! I told your da...!” He glanced anxiously at the door. “I told your da I wouldn't sully your honor!” he hissed under his breath.

She laughed a little louder. “No, you great ninny.” She kicked him lightly with a slippered foot. “I'm not undoing my dress. I'm undoing... this.... Ah! There we are.” 

She raised her hands and lifted from under the neckline of her dress a fine silver chain, from which dangled a silver pendant just about large enough to fill her palm. It was made in the form of a star, soft and rounded at the points. It had once been engraved, but years of wear had worn away the words, leaving behind a soft burnished surface that glowed in the firelight.

“What's this?” Fili asked, holding out his hand to touch the pendant. 

“It belonged to my mum,” Sigrid said softly. “And before her it belonged to my grandmother, and before that my great-grandmother, going back generations.”

“It's beautiful, Sigrid,” Fili murmured, his fingers tracing the delicate silverwork. This was fine craftsmanship, and as a dwarf Fili prided himself on recognizing the work of a master silversmith. 

“I want you to have it.”

“What?” He looked up sharply. “Sigrid, no. I couldn't do that. This isn't just an heirloom. This is... This is FAMILY.”

She smiled and leaned toward him. He tried to pull back but she gave him a stern look that froze him in place as she reached around his neck to fasten the clasp. 

“When I was a child and something frightened me,” she said as she worked, “my mother would pull me into her lap and show me this necklace. 'Sigrid,' she'd say, 'This star has seen many things, both good and bad. It's survived famine and fire, it's known love and heartbreak, and still here it is, shining on as it always has. This star has been very brave all its life, my Sigrid. Won't you be brave, too?'”

Sigrid tucked the cool silver pendant under Fili's collar and patted his chest fondly. “There,” she murmured, looking up and meeting his eyes. “Now next time you're scared to put your feelings to words, or worry that my father will take your words the wrong way, you can think of this brave little star against your heart. Then you can be brave, too.”

Fili swallowed hard, his throat burning. “Sigrid...”

“And on our wedding night,” she went on, her soft voice like a shower of rose petals, “you can take the beads from my hair, and this brave little star can rest between us, and we can be brave together.”

He nodded slowly, raising his hand to cover hers above his racing heart. “Together,” he rasped.

She closed the brief distance between them to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Aye,” she whispered, tucking her face into his neck as he wrapped her up in his arms. “Together.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp* What's this? An update? Egads!

Fili woke the next morning feeling refreshed but sore. The Lord's Wind Lance was a fine inn and the innkeeper had insisted on giving Erebor's crown prince the best room in the house, but Fili missed his comfortable dwarf-made bed. They were twice as large and three times as deep as the beds of Men, for all that they were made for a smaller race. Dwarfs spent much of their time toiling over hot metal and rough stone; bedtime was a serious business, and their beds reflected that.

He pulled himself to his feet and went about his morning ablutions, passing a damp cloth over his arms and torso and splashing some water on his face from a basin that he'd set to warm on the hearth. The activity helped work some of the soreness from his muscles and he let the rest be chased from his thoughts as he focused on his plans for the day with Sigrid.

Their evening had ended pleasantly if far earlier than Fili would have liked. The memory of his courting beads resting against her sweet face in the firelight had him smiling like a fool. _Besotted and bewitched,_ he observed with a wry chuckle as he pulled a linen shirt over his head. _I'm getting as bad as Kili._

He had packed a comfortable set of traveling clothes in preparation for his overnight. They were made of sturdy material that was nonetheless rich in color and texture. Fili didn't want to come across as a pompous prince trying to woo away Dale's beloved Lady, but nor did he want to look like some upstart beggar brat who'd gotten it in his head to play at courting a noblewoman. The sturdy leather boots and intricately embroidered coat were clearly of the finest quality, sure to impress without being too overwhelming.

Sigrid's star pendant still rested against his chest, warmed by his skin, and Fili let his hand rest over the little lump it made beneath his clothes as he glanced at his reflection in the room's mirror. “We'll be seeing your mistress again soon, brave little star,” he remarked with a fond smile. “Do you think I look dashing enough to scare away her other suitors?” He didn't expect an answer, but he liked to think the pendant twinkled an affirmative against his chest.

It had been his intention to make his way to Bard's home to collect Sigrid, so it was unexpected when he descended the stairs to the inn's entry hall and found her waiting for him, chatting amiably with the innkeeper. 

“Sigrid!” Fili called in happy surprise. “I didn't think to see you yet. I had planned to call on you later this morning.”

Sigrid beamed at him, and he felt his heart clench in his chest to see his courting braid tucked neatly (and conspicuously) into her tidy up-do. “I wanted to surprise you, highness,” she said with a playful curtsey, “and to ask if you would join me for breakfast.”

“It would be my pleasure, fair lady,” he agreed with an equally playful bow. 

Dale was still waking up and the streets were cool with early morning mist. “Father was quite impressed with you last night,” Sigrid imparted as they walked, her hand resting lightly in the crook of his elbow. Fili was pleased that their height difference was negligible enough that such delicate touches and modest shows of intimacy were possible. And of course it put him just at eye level with her delectable breasts, which was a decidedly _less_ modest perk, but one that he enjoyed immensely.

“Was he? That's good to hear.” He nodded to a greengrocer as the man was laying out his wares for the day's shoppers. “What did he say?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh.”

“Aye.”

“You'll pardon me, lass, but that doesn't instill me with much confidence, him saying nothing.”

“Da is a man of few words, Fili,” she said with a broad smile. “Had he spoken more than a few words about you after you left I would be worried. But when Da says nothing it means he is thinking, and if he is thinking then he is considering, and if he is considering then he is deciding if you're really too good to be true, or simply as perfect as you seem.”

Fili blushed and laid his hand over hers on his arm. “And you say _I'm_ the one who indulges in flattery,” he teased.

They ate breakfast at a small tavern called The Lake View, and Fili was pleased to discover that the place was owned and operated by none other than Dame Meera and her husband. “Goodie Meera, your dinner last evening was a thing of beauty,” he enthused, rising to his feet and executing a deep bow as the round, jolly woman came bustling out of the kitchen with their meal: two plates heaping with flapjacks drowning in honey and sweet cream butter. “I could not put into words how delicious I found every course to be.”

“Oooh, this one's a keeper, milady, no mistake!” The older woman's dark eyes twinkled as she smiled, her round apple cheeks glowing pink with pride. “You just sit down to your breakfast, milord prince, and don't hesitate to call for seconds if you take a liking to the fare. You young people need plenty of feeding up!” She gave him a hearty slap on the back before toddling back to the kitchens. 

“Once the duties of the town got to be too much for me to handle and still look after the family, Dame Meera was kind enough to take over the cooking,” Sigrid explained as they both tucked into their breakfast. “She and her daughters do so much for us, cooking and cleaning. Obviously it's only on a part-time basis, since the Lake View is their primary business, but it's a relief to have help around the home.”

“Aye, I understand. Erebor was a mess after spending so long under the care of a dragon, as you can imagine. If it were just us thirteen trying to clean it up we'd have never seen the light of day again. It was a relief when my kin from the Iron Hills stayed after the Battle to help, and then when the rest from Ered Luin arrived. There's still a lot to be done to return it to what it was before Smaug's invasion, but it's so much more like home now than it was before.”

“I would love to see it,” Sigrid sighed, resting her cheek on one hand and gazing into the middle distance. “I've heard such stories...”

Fili beamed at her across the table. “Lass, if I have my way you'll be seeing it every day for the rest of your life soon enough. But if you'd like to visit you're welcome at any time.”

“It wouldn't be rude?”

“Course not.”

“Would your uncle – Sorry, would _the King Under the Mountain_ approve?”

Fili waved a hand dismissively. “Don't you worry about my uncle. He blusters like a winter storm but most of that's for show. After a while you start to realize that yelling insults and snapping like a temperamental dog are his way of showing he cares. Tauriel almost broke down in tears when she figured out that calling her 'the accursed elf-witch' is his idea of an endearment.”

Sigrid laughed softly. “If that's his endearment for such a fine and fearsome lady as Tauriel I fear what he might call such a meek, shallow creature as me.”

“Oi, there's nothing meek or shallow about you, pretty Sigrid.” Fili reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Don't even make such jokes.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand in return. “Thank you, my prince.”

He pressed a kiss to her fingers and smiled. “And now you must show me the rest of your city, my Lady. But wait a moment while I first swear my undying fealty to Goodie Meera, whose flapjacks are truly the pan cake most blessed of the Valar.”

“Mmm, in that case I'm very glad she is already married to Master Meera, else I would surely lose you to her once you've tasted her strawberry shortcake.”

“Heavenly?”

“Decadently so.”

“Mahal, I find myself finding more and more reason to adore the daughters of Men.” 

After an effusive farewell that left Dame Meera blushing happily – “Hear that, girls? Your mum's favored by the dwarf prince!” – Sigrid and Fili set out to explore the rest of Dale. The people were generally amiable, calling out greetings as they passed. It was clear they were very fond of their young Lady, and while there were some frowns to see her walking about with a dwarf on her arm the majority opinion seemed to be one of satisfaction and pride. 

“She's a dear girl, milord dwarf,” one elderly woman remarked as they paused in front of her sweets shop. “She healed my boy after the dragon fire near killed him.”

“That was as much his strength as my skill, Agnes,” Sigrid protested, blushing prettily. 

“Ah, don't let her fool you, master prince,” the confectioner said with a wink. “She's a dab hand at healing, this one. A fine heart and fine hands. She deserves a lad what'll make her a fine husband, too.”

“I hope that I might fill that role, milady Agnes,” Fili beamed.

“Ooh, and here you are calling _me_ a lady!” The silver-haired woman hooted with laughter as she wrapped up a pair of cakes for them to take away with them. “Bless you, master dwarf, bless you!”

“I feel rather embarrassed,” Sigrid explained as they walked along afterward. “The people treat me as though I were... I don't know. Someone more important than I am. Yes I helped treat the sick and wounded after Smaug's death and then after the battle, but I was hardly the only one.”

“It's not always about what you do, Sigrid,” Fili soothed as they took a seat on the edge of the white granite fountain that bubbled in the center of the city. “It's about who you are while you do it. You're a fine, highborn lady for all that you were raised in rags. It means a lot to them to know that their Lady cares enough to get her hands dirty and bloody to help her people.”

“It was what anyone would have done,” she murmured, tearing off a bit of her cake and nibbling at it. 

“Would that were so, pretty Sigrid. But not every highborn lord or lady is so devoted to their people.”

“You'd have done it.”

He smiled. “That's because I'm special.”

She giggled and Fili was glad to have lightened the mood. “Conceited dwarf,” she teased, stealing a bit of his cake.

“Oi! That's mine!” he laughed as she tucked the morsel into her mouth.

“When we're wed, I'll bake you a whole banquet of cakes as recompense,” she promised, eyes sparkling.

“I'll hold you to that promise, sweet thief.” He winked.

Soon enough – too soon by Fili's reckoning – the sun began its downward course, and they found themselves back at the Lord's Wind Lance. The innkeeper already had Fili's pony saddled and ready to set out once again for Erebor. 

“I wish I could stay another night, lass,” Fili murmured, touching Sigrid's cheek as they stood near each other in the stable yard, away from the prying eyes of the townsfolk. 

She pressed a light kiss to his thumb. “Go,” she murmured, smiling as his hand reached up to touch her courting braid. “Kili may sit in your stead for the time being, but I know how it feels to be apart from your people when you feel so responsible for their welfare.”

“Will you come visit Erebor?” he asked, feeling breathless, as though the air were being pressed from his lungs. “I want to show you the halls and galleries and great chambers filled with gold that will be your kingdom when we're wed.”

Sigrid's smile was shy and sweet. “I should like that, my prince,” she murmured.

If Fili's smile were any wider he felt certain his face would break. “I'll send for you when I've had a space prepared for you. You'll need at least two full days and as many nights to see all there is to see. Will your father allow it?”

“I suspect he'll want to send along a chaperone. He still sees me as a child.” She frowned in irritation.

“Not a child, lass, but _his_ child nonetheless.” Fili stroked her nose, grinning as her eyes crossed a little as she tried to follow the motion. No matter how many times he did it that would never cease to tickle his funny bone. “The Lady Tauriel would surely be willing to see to your comfort and security during your visit. If Lord Bard would desire a chaperone he could not ask for one better than Kili's fair elf lady.”

Sigrid grinned and nodded. “I will convince him.” She hesitated a moment before leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. 

“I'll wait to hear word from you, my prince,” she murmured into his mouth, her hand cradling his cheek. “And then you may show me _all_ that awaits me in Erebor.” 

Fili didn't miss the emphasis she placed on the word _'all'_. “Aye, lass,” he murmured. “I look forward to it.”

They dallied for several more minutes, until their peaceful interlude was interrupted by one of the inn's stable boys arriving to muck out and then fork fresh straw into the stall so recently vacated by Fili's pony. “Watch for a bird from the mountain,” Fili said as he climbed into the saddle and gazed into Sigrid's tender eyes. 

“Yes, my lord prince,” she murmured, kissing his hand.

Fili leaned sideways to press a kiss to her forehead before spurring his pony forward with a whoop, leaving her laughing in his wake. 

Already he was planning what he'd show her and what delicacies he'd ask the kitchens to prepare for their meals while she was visiting. And if he could sneak her away from Tauriel for some hours at night... Well, no one need know. It was hardly the first time a pair of lovers would indulge in a secret rendezvous.

Yes. It would be perfect. It would be wonderful. He would make her fall in love with his home so that she would never want to leave, and then when she became his wife she would never have to.

And it all would have gone off without a hitch if he hadn't woken up the next morning feeling sick as a dog and hotter than Mahal's own forge.

“It's all the stress and lack of sleep,” Oin harumphed as he fussed around Fili's bed, taking his temperature and draping smelly poultices across his forehead and chest. “Plus you've been gallivanting off to see the girl at all hours of the day and night, dressed like a man going courting and not like a dwarf riding across windy valleys still sunk in the shadows of winter. Ye've taken a chill sure as the sun rises in the east. Your body's decided it's had enough and now you're to stay in bed till it decides otherwise!”

“But Oin, I can't stay abed!” Fili protested; or protested as best he could when he was interrupted every other word by a fit of coughing. “Sigrid waits for me!”

“Aye, and a fine sight ye'll be to her now. Red-eyed and pink-assed with fever, hacking up yer lungs like ye've been breathing coal dust and snorting pepper instead of snuff. HAH! Drink this.” Before Fili could protest the aged healer had yanked his mouth open and poured a foul-tasting tonic down his throat. “Now sleep!”

Whatever had been in the potion was clearly fast-acting because Fili could barely hold his head up long enough to growl a useless string of curses at the deaf medic's retreating back before he felt the weight of drugged sleep overtaking him. 

_BOLLOCKS!_ was his last thought before the world went black.

 

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Sigrid didn't really begin to worry that she hadn't heard from Fili until the fourth day. Even then she couldn't find much time to focus on it. The early plantings had begun to sprout, and that meant she had to turn her attention to matters of surplus and subsistence; what there was for the city and what could be bartered with their growing list of trade partners. She forced her concern about Fili's silence to the back of her mind. Surely he had a good reason for not contacting her yet. She would not succumb to silly paranoia just because a few days had passed since he'd promised to send for her. They were both busy people, that was all. Just busy.

Which didn't stop her from _running_ back to the manse on the fifth day when she heard that a bird had arrived from Erebor.

“Is it from Fili?” Tilda asked, eagerly peering over her shoulder as Sigrid fiddled with the tightly-wrapped bit of parchment.

“I don't know. Now shoo,” Sigrid tutted. “It's rude to read other people's mail. Go on back to your lessons.”

“I'm sick to death of lessons,” Tilda whined, but obediently went back to practicing sums on her bit of slate by the hearth.

Sigrid bit her lip, then hurried up the stairs to her room. It was silly to want to be alone when she read the note; it was just a bunch of words written on a bit of paper. But as she unfurled the scrap of parchment she felt her cheeks growing warm. What would he say?

To her surprise, he didn't say anything. Rather than being from Fili, the note was in Kili's familiar, spidery script.

_My dear Lady Sigrid,_

_I apologize for my brother's long absence from your side._  
 _Unfortunately the great clod has gone and fallen sick, and_  
 _like the infernal prat he is he refuses to get better. I have_  
 _heard tell around Dale that you are quite skilled at the_  
 _healing arts. Should you find it in your heart to do so, would_  
 _you be so kind as to come assist my brother in his infirmity?_  
 _I'm sure your presence alone would do wonders for his health,_  
 _and you would save him from certain death at the hands of Oin,_  
 _who has sworn to murder my damn fool of a brother if he keeps_  
 _refusing to take his medicine and sleep as ordered._

_I hope that you will see fit to grace us with your welcome presence,_  
 _my Lady. Until then, I am, as always,_

_Your friend,_

_Kili_

Sigrid re-read the note several times. Sick? Dwarves were a hardy folk. For Fili to have fallen sick so quickly must have meant he was quite sick indeed. 

She worried her bottom lip for a minute, re-reading the note again before folding it up and tucking it neatly into the front pocket of her housecoat. “Tilda!” she called. 

"Aye?"

“Fetch my medicine bag.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *DOUBLE GASP* Not just an update, but a TWO CHAPTER update? The apocalypse is nigh! 
> 
> ;-)

Bard was at first unwilling to let Sigrid make the journey to Erebor, sick prince or not. “You'll be alone and the journey is not a short one, Sigrid.”

“Then you can send a couple of guards along with me,” she argued as she packed a bag. A change of clothes, her medicine pouch, her embroidery... “I'll send them back when we reach the mountain.”

“No, you'll keep them with you.”

“No I won't. They're dwarves, Da, not orcs. Do you think I need protection from them?” After some consideration she chose a compilation of fairy tales from her bookshelf and tucked it into the top of her bag. Perhaps they might interest Fili. “In case you didn't notice their crown prince happens to be courting me, and his brother is best friends with Tilda. I don't think their kin are going to ravish me the moment I step through the gate, do you?”

Bard stood in her doorway, face creased with worry. “I don't like it, Sigrid,” he protested. “I don't like it at all.”

“I know you don't, Da,” she soothed, crossing the room to press a kiss to his whiskery cheek. “But I'm the healer in this family. It's something I do well, and helping the sick makes me happy. Fili has been nothing but kind, and a good friend to our family. If I can aid his recovery I want to do so.”

“They have their own healers.”

“Aye, and like all dwarves, Fili is being a stubborn fool where his own health is concerned and is ignoring the advice of Master Oin. I don't intend to let him ignore _my_ advice. That's something he'll have to get used to if he truly wants me to be his wife.”

Bard sighed heavily. “I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?”

Sigrid smiled and hugged him. “No, Da. I know you mean well, but I'm a woman grown. You don't need to spend your worry on me, I promise. I can take care of myself.”

He rubbed her back. “I know, my Sigrid,” he murmured. “But there are days I look at you and still see the little girl with pigtails who used to beg me to tell her fairy stories at bedtime.”

“You always told the best stories, Da,” she sighed fondly. After a moment she added, “Anyway, I already sent word to the mountain that I'll arrive tomorrow. They're expecting me.”

Bard sighed again, pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped back. “Then I'll arrange a pair of guards to accompany you in the morning,” he said. “You'll keep me informed of how you fare while you're in Erebor?”

“Of course, Da. I'll send you word every day.”

“Once you've assessed Prince Fili's condition you should be able to estimate how long you'll be needed there. Let me know when to expect you home.”

“Yes, Da.”

“I'll send the guards to collect you when you're ready to return.”

“ _Understood_ , Da. Honestly, you worry worse than an old woman.”

He chuckled and laid his hand on her hair. “Someday you'll have children of your own, my Sigrid, and then you'll understand.”

Bright and early the next morning Sigrid and her companions set out for the Lonely Mountain. The older of the two guards, Albin, had been a friend to Bard for years. He had laughing green eyes and thinning gray hair, both of which seemed incongruous when matched against his woodsman's body that was hard as teak.

The younger guard, much to Sigrid's embarrassment, was Fillon, the tailor's son. The skinny young man who'd given her her first kiss had filled out in the intervening years, his broad shoulders straining at his leather jerkin. He'd clearly chosen to forgo his father's trade in favor of the life of a soldier. The lifestyle suited him, and she told him so.

“Father wasn't happy about it, but he's got little Cedric to take over the shop when he's old enough,” Fillon said with a grin. “Mum went completely spare, but she's doing better since I brought Gertrude home to meet her.”

“Gertrude?”

“Aye. She's my girl.” The young guard blushed. “She's a kitchen girl at the guardhouse.”

Sigrid grinned. “She's a very lucky young woman. I look forward to meeting her.”

 _And so we grow up,_ she mused internally. Once upon a time Fillon had watched _her_ with those big brown eyes, love sick and full of plans for the future. And once upon a time she'd dreamed about what it would be like to be his wife; to raise little children with brown, doe-like eyes and honey blond hair who were clever with a needle and thread. It seemed quaint now, but at the time it had felt like the only future worth having. _Before my Fili came home to his mountain._

It wasn't quite noon when they reached the gates of Erebor and a familiar face was there to meet her. “Milady Sigrid!” Bofur called, waving his hat in greeting as she approached. “Welcome, lass! And a sight fer sore eyes ye are!”

Sigrid beamed as she leapt down from her horse and crouched down to give the jovial dwarf a hug. “Master Bofur, my friend. It has been too long since last I saw you! The children of Dale pass along their thanks for making such wonderful toys, and their parents thank you for keeping the children occupied and out of the way.”

Bofur grinned and plunked his ridiculous hat back onto his head. “Aye, and I've been hard at work on more. Nothing's so sweet as little children laughin', 'cept mebbe little children laughin' where you ain't trippin' over them.”

Sigrid laughed and straightened up, turning to her companions. “You can let my father know I've arrived safely, and that I'll let him know when to expect me home. Thank you for your company, Albin. Fillon.”

“A pleasure, Lady Sigrid,” Albin said with a tip of his hat.

Fillon waved. “I'll tell Gertie hello for you.”

“Do! And let her know I expect to see the both of you 'round the Manse for dinner before midsummer. No excuses!”

She waved as the two men began the ride back to Dale, then turned back to Bofur. “Now then. Where's this troublesome prince?”

“Ah, he's easy enough to find,” Bofur said as she shouldered her bag, handed off her horse to another dwarf and followed the toymaker into the mountain. “Just head towards the yellin'.”

“So he's not on his deathbed then.”

“Nooo, not as such.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meanin' I'm passin' sure someone's gonna kill him if he doesn't stop bein' such a pissy bastard. Beggin' yer pardon for the language, milady.”

Sigrid laughed. “I grew up around fishermen and smugglers, Bofur. I've heard much worse.”

“Ah, so ye've never heard proper dwarf swearin', milady. It'll curl yer hair and then straighten it right back out again.”

As they approached Fili's chamber Sigrid was inclined to agree.

She couldn't understand three-quarters of the words that were pouring through the thick oak double doors, but even in Khuzdul it was easy enough to figure out when someone was calling someone else a bumbling ass with questionable parentage. “What are they doing in there?” she asked, wide-eyed as she stared at the door.

“Judging by all that swearin'? Probably maths.”

Sigrid frowned. “No wonder he's not getting better. No one could get better when they're worked up into such a state on a day to day basis. Why hasn't Oin turned them out?”

“Because Fili's the Crown Prince,” Bofur said with a helpless shrug. “And Fili told Oin to piss off.”

“Oh he did, did he?” She rolled up her sleeves and hitched her bag higher on her shoulder. “Well _I'm_ not his subject. If he tells me to piss off I'll tell him where he can put his piss.”

Bofur beamed at her. “Ah, lass, yer a breath of fresh air. Bless ye.”

“Open the door for me, Bofur, please. I want to make an _entrance_.” The dwarf trotted forward to push open the doors as Sigrid squared her shoulders and marched in behind him, arms crossed and chin raised in her best Haughty Mistress impersonation.

No one noticed their entrance for a moment, which gave Sigrid time to take in the scene before her. Fili was tucked into the middle of a large, plush bed, propped up against a veritable wall of pillows, barking orders at the collection of dwarves that hovered around him, quills scribbling madly across their parchment scrolls. The prince wore a fine linen shirt that clung to his barrel chest and broad shoulders courtesy of the fine sheen of fever sweat that coated his skin. His rich blond hair looked brittle and his soft lips were chapped and pale. It was quite clear he was sick, even without the deep, rattling coughs that punctuated his ranting.

“I told you to have those,” _hack, cough!_ “inventories done yesterday! Why haven't they been com-” _HACK!_ “completed yet! Must I do everything myself?”

“My prince, the livestock have been birthing in abundance, and we've needed to divert a great deal of resources to tend to them-”

“I don't care! It'll be no good to have a crop of new livestock if they're all slaughtered by orcs and wolves because we've not secured sufficient arms and armor to defend them!” He leaned forward as a deep, wracking cough shook through his body, leaving him wheezing for breath. “Just... see to it!”

“Yes, highness. As you wish.”

Sigrid had seen enough. Before someone else could speak up she cleared her throat loudly and barked, “Anyone in this room who is NOT the Crown Prince, _leave_. NOW.”

Fili's blue eyes were bright with fever as he gaped at her. “Sigrid...?”

She ignored him and stared pointedly at the other dwarves, who were now frozen in a guilty tableau around his bed. “I believe I issued an order, gentlemen. If you think your prince's temper is sharp, you have clearly never experienced _mine_. Don't look to him!” she snapped when she saw some of the dwarves peeking in Fili's direction for instruction. “The Crown Prince is sick and therefore in no condition to issue commands. His brother, Prince Kili, is more than capable of handling whatever questions and concerns you might have about the day to day functioning of Erebor. I suggest you seek him out and leave Prince Fili to me.”

“But...” one young, bookish dwarf offered meekly. “Milady, the Crown Prince said-”

“It is no matter what the Crown Prince said,” Sigrid cut him off, gentling her voice somewhat. “I am well acquainted with the stubbornness of dwarves, and Prince Fili is a shining example of the type. That is why I'm here. The Crown Prince cannot order me around.” She pointed to the open door behind her. “Now, if you'd all be so kind as to leave, I have a patient to attend to.”

“Come along, lads!” Bofur crowed cheerfully, waving them out of the room as they filed past. “Ye heard the lady. Off ye go!”

“Master Bofur, could you let Prince Kili know that I'd like to see him when he has a moment?”

“It'd be my pleasure, milady.” Bofur doffed his hat and affected a princely bow. “Is there anythin' else ye'd be wantin' then?”

“Something to eat would be wonderful.” Sigrid smiled. “Something rich and filling for myself. A simple broth and some tepid water for his majesty.”

“Oi!” Fili protested from the bed. Sigrid continued to ignore him.

“I'll drop by the kitchens, miss, and have 'em send up something. Give a yell if ye need anythin' else.”

“Thank you, Bofur.” She smiled fondly as she saw him out of the room and closed the door behind him. Then, taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and turned around.

Fili offered her a weak smile. “Sigrid.”

She marched across the room, dropping her satchel on the foot of his bed before reaching out and slapping him hard across the face.

“Ow!”

“You great, galloping fool!” She plunked down on the edge of the bed and pulled him into a hug. “Why didn't you send word that you'd fallen ill? When I didn't hear from you I didn't know what to think. And then when Kili sent word that you were sick, and I didn't know how badly, and I wondered why you'd keep it from me, and if it meant you thought I'd find you weak, and- Oh, Fili, I missed you!”

Fili relaxed against her, wrapping his arms around her waist in a loose embrace. “I'm sorry, lass,” he murmured against her neck. “I was just so angry that I got this confounded chill when I'd promised to bring you to Erebor and show you all we have to offer, and...” He trailed off. “It sounds awfully childish now that I say it aloud.”

“Yes, that's because it _is_ childish,” Sigrid murmured, stroking his hair. His body was unnaturally warm, the heat soaking through his thin shirt and her thick traveling cloak and gown. “Oh, love, you've quite the fever, haven't you?”

“Aye. It's better than it was, though.”

That didn't make her feel better. “I shall have a stern word with Master Oin. You should not have been receiving visitors. You should be resting.”

“They weren't here because they wanted to be, Sigrid,” Fili sighed. “I made 'em come.”

“Whatever for?”

“Because I hate lying around like a useless pile of slag. I'm here, so I might as well do my duties.”

“You're as bad as my father, my silly prince.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead, taking the opportunity to gauge his temperature. “You'd both work yourself into an early grave without me to rein you in. I'm going to have to cure you of that foolish trait when we're wed.”

“Aye...” He sounded exhausted.

“Shh...” She eased him back against his bulwark of pillows, stroking his cheek and gazing into his fever-bright eyes. “I'm here now, and since I'm not your subject you can't order me about, courting braid or no.” Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. “You can yell and bark and rail at me all you want, but I'm not letting you out of this bed till your fever's broken and that cough's gone away. So you'd best get used to taking orders from someone else for a change, my prince. Understand?”

Fili gave her a tired smile. “As milady commands.”

“Close your eyes now and rest.” She stroked his braided mustache.

“Mm...” He kissed the pad of her thumb, eyes closing obediently.

Sigrid stayed close for a minute more before standing up and quietly laying out the contents of her pack along the hearth. By the time their meal arrived Fili was fast asleep.

 

+%+%+%+%+%+%+%+%+%+

 

Fili didn't know how long he slept. What sleep he'd gotten in the past week had largely been of the drugged variety and thus blissfully free of dreams, but this fever-sleep of exhaustion was having none of it. His dreams were strange and dark, full of sharp shadows and painful colors that left him gasping.

He woke suddenly, going from sleep to wakefulness in the space of a breath. He kept his eyes closed to try and soothe the ache that throbbed behind his eyeballs. The fabric of his bedding felt rough under his palms, and his head felt heavy as lead. The air was hot, maddeningly hot. _What I wouldn't give for a roll in the snow..._

The soft susurration of voices met his ears and he strained a little to make out what was being said.

“...it a stir.... let... boil...”

“It smells awful.”

“Shh, you'll wake...”

A series of whispers. The clink of cutlery against metal. The tap of a wooden spoon on the edge of a bowl.

Fili felt a presence approach the bed, and the delicate scent of lavender reached his nose. A gentle hand rested on his forehead, light as a feather, then withdrew; too soon, by Fili's reckoning. He heard the sound of liquid being squeezed into a bowl, then a cool, damp cloth was laid across his forehead. The unexpected chill made him gasp.

“Shh, my prince. It will aid your fever. Shhhh...”

Sigrid. His Sigrid had come. The memories flooded into Fili's muzzy brain. How she'd strode into his room, arms crossed and face as thunderous as Thorin at his worst. How she'd sent away the clerks and courtiers. How she'd slapped him, then hugged him, then put him to bed...

“Sigrid?” he mumbled. His mouth felt like sawdust.

“Aye, I'm here, my prince. Raise your head, love.” Her soft hand slipped under his head. Fili wanted to warn her off; his skull felt too heavy, would surely crush her small, white hand. But before he could form the words she was helping him lift his head and a wooden cup was pressed to his lips. The water was warm and tasted faintly of ginger. His parched mouth welcomed the liquid and he took great, greedy gulps.

“Easy, my love,” Sigrid soothed, moving the cup away. “You mustn't drink too much too fast. You'll make yourself sick.”

“He's already sick, Sigrid. Didn't you notice?”

Fili tilted his head toward the second voice and forced his eyes to open as the other side of his bed tilted under the speaker's weight. “Kili.”

His younger brother gave him a bright, cheeky smile. “Evening, sleepyhead.”

“Your brother has been kind enough to help me get settled for my stay here, Fili.” He turned his attention back to the young woman beside him. Sigrid smiled fondly, cradling his cheek.

“You'll stay?”

“Of course. I am here to see to your rehabilitation, Prince Fili.” Sigrid's pale fingers brushed his hair back from his face. “Kili has been helping me fix your medicine.”

“Aye, but not before the Lady gave me a right earful for being such a poor brother and not taking care of your duties while you're sick,” Kili added, though his tone was light and his eyes merry. “It would've done your heart good to hear it, Fili. A finer scolding I've not gotten since mother caught me using her dress form for target practice back in Ered Luin.”

“Oh, you.” Sigrid reached across Fili's prone form and smacked Kili lightly on the shoulder. “Honestly, you'd think I showered him with honey cakes the way he goes on about it. Is it normal for dwarves to be giddy when they're yelled at by womenfolk, my prince?”

Fili laughed softly, but quickly broke off as a dry cough rattled in his chest. Sigrid helped him sip some more ginger water and the discomfort soon eased. “Mmm,” he hummed as he settled back against the pillows. “A good rebuke makes a lad think fondly of his mother, pretty Sigrid. It's nostalgic.”

“She even wrung my ear, Fili. It's still a bit pink!”

Sigrid huffed and rolled her eyes. “Honestly.   _Dwarves._ ” She leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to Fili's cheek before standing up. “Now it's time you had some supper, my prince.”

“I'd rather not,” Fili mumbled, his stomach twisting at the thought of food.

“You've not had a bite all day, you big ninny,” Kili argued as Sigrid went to the hearth to stir whatever was bubbling in the little cauldron that hung above the flames. “What kind of dwarf prince doesn't fancy a meal after a long day?”

“What time is it?”

“You've slept most of the day and well into the night,” Sigrid said, “and you already look the better for it, though still far from well.”

“She means you look bloody awful, but not so bloody awful as before,” Kili interjected helpfully.

“Thank you, Kili,” Sigrid supplied, her tone dry. “You can head off to bed now yourself.”

Fili glanced at his brother and saw that the younger dwarf was wearing his nightclothes, wrapped in a heavy dressing gown. “It's so late already?”

“Aye, and later still. My lady's favored stars have already passed overhead hours ago.”

“What are you still doing up then, twit?” Fili flapped a hand weakly at his brother. “Shoo. Get you to bed. If you're going to be doing the job of the Crown Prince while I'm laid up you'll need your sleep.”

Kili rolled his eyes but climbed off the bed as he did. “In case you didn't notice, I happen to have been doing the job of the Crown Prince since the _actual_ Crown Prince started courting the lovely Lady of Dale. It's only since _that_ Crown Prince got it into his head that he'd rather be sick and busy than sick and bored that I've been flapping about like a loose thread. But now that the dear Lady is here to see to my brother's health, and since she's wrung my ear full sore about how I must take my duties more seriously, I look forward to the morning with baited breath.”

“Kili?”

“Yes, Fili?”

“Please shut up and go to bed.”

Kili grinned and bounced on the balls of his feet. “As you wish. G'night, brother. Sleep well.” He turned and bowed deeply to Sigrid. “And you, my lady. Please don't let my oaf of a brother keep you from your own rest.” He glanced over his shoulder and gave his brother an over-exaggerated wink before trotting out of the room, closing the heavy oak door softly behind him.

“Your brother is quite charming,” Sigrid mused as she dished something out of the pot by the fire into a bowl.

“Indeed, if by 'charming' you mean 'irritating and noisy.'”

“That would explain a great deal about why Tilda enjoys his company so much.”

The two older siblings shared a laugh as Sigrid rejoined him on the bed, steaming bowl in hand. “This is a bit of chicken broth mixed with some healing herbs,” she explained, stirring the concoction. “When Bain was younger it was near impossible to get him to take his medicine without disguising the taste, so I used to mix it into his food.”

Fili's nose wrinkled. “It doesn't smell much like food.”

“Yes, well, you're a big, strong dwarf, not a little boy, so this is less about disguising the taste and more about getting some food into you at the same time as some medicine.” She raised a spoonful. “It won't taste very nice, but your body will welcome the nourishment. And once you've drunk it all down I've got some cough sweets here that will help your chest, and they taste much better than medicine.”

Fili obediently swallowed the first mouthful. “Oh, Mahal, that tastes foul.”

“That's your own fault. If you'd done as Master Oin told you to from the beginning, gotten plenty of rest and taken your medicine, this wouldn't be necessary. Open up.” She poured another spoonful of broth into his mouth. The taste was no better, but it wasn't _so_ bad, now that he thought about it.

“Ah, but see, you are here beside me.” He smiled at her. “If I had known that falling ill and disobeying Oin's orders would bring you to my side I would have done it much earlier.”

“Charm and wit will not avail you, my love,” Sigrid chided, tapping him on the nose with her spoon before giving him another mouthful of broth. “ _You_ are a very naughty dwarf, and when you are well again I am going to punish you properly.”

“I look forward to it, my pretty Sigrid.”

She giggled and shook her head in fond exasperation. “Honestly.   _Dwarves_.”

They chatted amiably as he finished off the broth, discussing the sundry dry duties that came with the responsibilities of nobility. Sigrid told him about the ongoing dispute between the thatchers and the shinglers, while Fili spoke about the promising new vein of silver they'd discovered just before their courtship began.

“You know, we've been courting for two weeks,” Sigrid said as she helped him remove his shirt. The empty soup bowl was set aside, forgotten, as Fili sucked on a peppermint cough sweet.

“Have we?” Fili leaned back against the pillows, which felt rough against his feverish skin.

“Mm-hmm. I expect by the time your health has improved, another half week will have passed.” She dipped a fresh cloth into a bowl of cool water and began lightly patting it across his bare chest.

Fili hissed softly, his body tensing from the cold, but didn't push her away. “Almost a month then.”

“Aye.”

“Did your father protest against your coming to see me?”

“He did.”

“But you came anyway.”

She glanced at him through her lashes, eyes sparkling, then turned her attention back to his sponge bath. “He knew I'd not be swayed.”

“Sigrid.” He caught her hand and moved it higher to rest over the silver star that still hung on its fine chain around his neck. “Will he say yes?”

Her fingers toyed with the blunted points of the star as she gazed into his eyes. “I believe he will, my Fili,” she murmured. “He wants only for me to be happy, and you make me so happy.”

Fili's face ached as he smiled, reaching up to toy with the courting beads that rested against her cheek. “And you me, my Sigrid.”

She leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I'm still angry with you,” she whispered, the lavender scent of her hair a balm to his senses.

“I can't wait until I'm well enough to receive your punishment,” he breathed in return.

“I'll not be gentle with you, my prince.”

“I wouldn't dream of it, my lady.”

“You have left me very lonely for near a week, and for that you must make amends.”

“Take from me what you will, my beautiful, precious lady. I would give all that I am to atone for my trespasses against you.”

The softest hint of a moan passed Sigrid's lips as she rested her forehead against his. “I wish you were well,” she murmured, her tone tinged with frustration.

“Now that you're here, I'll heal quickly. Already I feel ten times better than I did this morning. By tomorrow I'll feel a hundred times better still, so long as you're here beside me.”

Sigrid giggled and pulled back to look into his eyes. “Your brother is charming, my prince, but your tongue is ever so sweet.”

Fili winked at her. “Aye, it's sweet with peppermint. Care to taste?”

She laughed and picked up her cloth again, dipping it in the water and returning to her ministrations, brushing the cool water over his bicep.

“Honestly,” she teased. “ _Dwarves._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've nicknamed this the "Honestly. _Dwarves._ " chapter, for reasons that are probably obvious. ^_^


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long, every one! The week was hectic and I never seemed to have a moment to write. :(
> 
> Be forewarned, this chapter includes a bit of gory description of wounds suffered in battle. It's not long, but if you're particularly sensitive to such things, you'll want to skip over that bit and get to the sexy times that follow.
> 
> That's right, I said sexy times. _*Bow chicka wow wow...*_ ;-)
> 
> * * *

As Sigrid had expected, it took a further two days for the worst of Fili's symptoms to fade. His fever went down, though it didn't go away entirely, and his breathing improved markedly thanks to her twice-daily doses of special-brewed tea in the morning and broth in the evening. 

“I should've known it'd take a pretty girl with a sharp tongue to get the lad to take his medicine,” Oin praised her on her second evening with the crown prince, when he dropped in at bedtime to see how the patient was doing. “Stubborn as a stone mule that one is, but loyal to a fault. I expect he'd move heaven and earth to do what you wanted, lass.”

“Oi! I'm right here,” Fili grumbled, blushing bright red and looking all together uncomfortable, making Sigrid giggle.

“Aye, that ye are,” the elderly dwarf medic grunted, giving the younger dwarf a knock 'round the ear. “And not through any effort of your own! I hope you're thanking the Lady and singing her praises every chance you get.”

“Yes, Oin.”

“Though she's clearly addled in the head to be so taken with a clod-pated muggins like you.”

Fili rolled his eyes as Sigrid covered her mouth to suppress her laughter. “Yes, Oin.”

“Between your pigheadedness, your brother's flightiness, and your uncle's bloody temper, it's a miracle this mountain hasn't gone to hell in a galloping hand basket!”

“ _Yes_ , Oin. I get it.” Miming beating himself over the head with a board. Sigrid biting her sleeve to hold in her laughter.

“Aye, and don't you forget it!” the old medic huffed, then frowned. “What was I talking about?”

“I think your point was that I'm a colossal twit, but the Lady Sigrid, for some bizarre reason, finds me pleasant enough to want to save my sorry arse,” Fili offered.

“Ah, that's right. Good lad. You're a smart boy when you're not being thick as a brick.”

“He's fond of you,” Sigrid remarked after the medic shuffled out of the room, leaving her and Fili alone together. 

“Aye, for all that he thinks I'm a lackwit,” Fili grinned, relaxing into the pillows as Sigrid tucked the blankets around his recumbent form. “He's a bit of a mother hen, but the number of times he's stitched up me and Keel after we've done something stupid probably gives him reason to be.”

“And how often has he stitched you up exactly?” Sigrid perched on the edge of the bed as her fingers teased up the sleeve of his shirt, exposing his muscular forearm. The tawny skin was covered in a fine mesh of golden hair to match his chest, which still did little to obscure the fine network of scars that stretched from his hand to his elbow and disappeared beneath his sleeve. Some were fine, white lines; others were darker, deeper. One thick ridge of scar tissue ran across the top of his forearm from his thumb, diagonally toward his elbow. 

Fili saw where she was looking. “Sword accident,” he explained, glancing from her face to the scar and back again. “When I was young and stupid and didn't know a dagger from a darning needle.”

“It looks very painful.”

“It was. My mother thought my arm'd come off. She was so scared she didn't even yell at me.”

“Really?”

“Aye. Well, until Oin patched me up. Once she was sure my hand wasn't going to fall off she gave me such a hiding I couldn't sit for a week. I had to sleep on my stomach.”

Sigrid smiled and watched as he tugged his shirt off over his head. She'd seen his bare chest enough by now that she was familiar with its dips and ridges and, of course, scars. That didn't stop the now ubiquitous thrill from rippling through her belly as she watched his muscles shift beneath his flesh. 

“This one I got falling out of a tree,” Fili explained, pointing to a jagged line of pink scar tissue on his side, under his left arm. “And this one is where Kili accidentally nicked me with one of his arrows when he was first learning how to shoot. It was my own fault, though. I snuck up on him like an ass and his shot went wide.”

Sigrid let her hand slide down his chest, her fingers trailing through the coarse golden hair that covered his torso. “And this...” she murmured as her palm came to a rest over an angry red scar that stretched across his stomach, from right hip to just below his left pectoral. It was clearly one of his newer scars, and despite the fact that it must have been a terrible wound the scar tissue was minimal, barely more than a fine line that disappeared against his rugged skin.

Fili's blunt, warm fingers wrapped loosely around her wrist. “The Battle,” he murmured. “But you know that, love.”

“Aye...” Her fingers brushed gently back and forth along a short span of the scar. “How did it happen?”

“Sigrid-”

“Please. I want to know.”

Fili sighed, his chest rising and falling beneath her hand. “It was after uncle Thorin got injured,” he murmured, his blue eyes focused on her hand. “I went a little... crazy. I don't remember much about what led up to it, but suddenly there was an orc there, on the biggest warg I'd ever seen. I didn't even have a chance to dodge when it lashed out and knocked me down with a paw that was almost as big as me.” Sigrid's fingers curled anxiously on his chest and Fili opened her fingers to twine them with his own. “One of his claws got me right across the midsection.

“I was too busy trying to keep my guts in my stomach to defend myself. I'd have gotten a Morgul pike through the heart right then and there if Kili hadn't come out of nowhere and shot a dwarf arrow right into that orc's eye, then started hacking at the warg with my sword. He was a berserker. I don't think he even realized he had a spear in his back until he'd killed the warg and staggered over to sit with me.”

Sigrid made a pained noise in the back of her throat. “Fili...”

“But it's okay,” he soothed, squeezing her fingers and tilting her chin up with his free hand so he could look her in the eye. “I'm okay, pretty Sigrid. Tauriel found us and the elves managed to save our stubborn dwarf hides, ne? And look – I won't even have a scar to brag about by the time I'm old and gray. Damnable elvish healing. This'll fade away to nothing, and our little grandchildren will call their grandsire a liar when I tell them about the Battle of Five Armies and how their great uncle Kili saved me from the belly of the Great Warg.”

She knew he was trying to make her smile, but all Sigrid could think about was what it must have been like on the battlefield. The reeking air full of smoke and death, the clash of metal and the wet thud of cleaving flesh. Her Fili torn in two, his slippery hands struggling to keep his innards from slithering out like an exodus of snakes...

“Sigrid. Sigrid.” She blinked, aware suddenly that he'd been speaking to her. Fili's blue eyes were flooded with concern as he cupped her cheek, and she realized that she was crying. “Shhh, don't cry, lass. Please don't cry. I'll fight for you, and kill for you, and I'll gladly die for you, but I don't know how to help you when you cry.”

“Oh, Fili.” Sigrid leaned in and draped herself across his chest, winding her arms around his neck and feeling his arms settle around her waist, offering comfort. 

“Don't you dare die for me,” she whispered tearfully against his neck. “Don't you dare. I don't want to think about a life without you in it.”

Warm, whiskery lips pressed against her temple. “I don't plan on leaving you, my pretty Sigrid,” he whispered huskily. “You'll be lucky if you can be rid of me for an hour, let alone forever.”

She managed a teary laugh. “I wouldn't call being rid of you for an hour 'lucky,'” she protested, raising her head to rest her forehead against his. “I'd lose my mind.”

“Ah, lass.” His hands gently cradled her face, and she was amazed all over again by how such a compact, muscular race could demonstrate such delicacy. “I've already lost mine. I lost my heart at Long Lake when you kissed me, and I lost my mind in all the long months from then to now. It'll take me an Age to recover, if I ever do, and only if you never leave my side.”

Sigrid sniffled and lifted her hands to hold his face as he held hers. “My prince is stronger than he thinks,” she whispered, stroking her thumbs across his lips.

Fili's eyes were so blue. So strikingly blue. And while his muscles were hard and lean, his lips were tender as he whispered, “So is my lady,” before he kissed her. 

+%+%+%+%+%+%+%+%+%+%+

Sigrid was soft in Fili's arms as he undressed her, whispering gentle endearments between kisses. She gasped as his mouth moved down her throat until he found her breast, closing his lips around her nipple. “Oh... Oh...” Her hands flattened against his shoulders, pressing him closer. “My Fili...”

“I promised I would taste you,” he rasped, releasing her breast and moving to the other side. “I promised I'd memorize every flavor. I keep my promises, pretty Sigrid.” His tongue curled around her other nipple as he pulled the tight bud into his mouth.

The sounds she made were magical. Kili often spoke of how Tauriel's voice reminded him of bells. Sigrid's soft whimpers and gasps, her whispered pleas and gratitude, were like a shower of jewels across Fili's shoulders. Rich rubies as he flicked her nipples with his tongue. Cool emerald as he ghosted kisses down her belly. Fiery diamond as he sucked at the gentle curve of her hip, letting the insistent tug of her fingers in his hair urge him on until he'd left his mark on her, soothing the hot ache with a swipe of his tongue. 

“Sigrid,” he murmured, dipping his tongue into her navel and blowing a soft breath across her skin. The young woman's belly fluttered under his mouth. “My beautiful highborn lady.”

“Ashes,” Sigrid gasped, her fingers tight in his hair. “I was born... in ashes...”

“Great things spring from ashes,” Fili breathed, kissing lower. He felt her thighs trembling as they hugged his shoulders. “New growth in springtime. New life.” 

“Fili, please...” Her legs loosened and cautiously parted further.

“Ah... My beautiful Sigrid.” He tilted his head to kiss her inner thigh, pressing his nose into her petal-soft flesh. “You taste like home, love. I want to live here.”

She giggled, the sound bubbling up from her stomach in anxious bursts. “Scandalous dwarf,” she breathed with a shaky smile, stroking his hair. 

Fili smiled up her body, gazing into her misty blue eyes. Her skin was dewed with sweat, the color high in her cheeks and spreading down her breasts and belly. The shyness in her eyes was clear, but there was also curiosity and, around the edges, something that called to the lust in his own gaze. 

“Nothing we do is scandalous, my Sigrid,” he murmured, curling his hand around her thigh. “You're my wife, and I'm your husband.”

“We haven't been married yet, my Fili.”

He shook his head. “We haven't said the words or bound our hands, and I've not paid out your bride price, but those are just things. You've been my wife since the first time I saw you in Lake-town. You've been my wife since before I left Ered Luin. Thirteen dwarves and a hobbit couldn't hope to face down a dragon and live, Sigrid, but we did, and your father's the one who slew the beast. The elves didn't heal me after the battle, Sigrid. No living soul could survive a wound like that, no matter the skills of the elven healers who found him; not without a reason. I crossed the world on a doomed quest and lived. And now I know I lived so I could be with you, today and tomorrow and every tomorrow that follows. I know it in my blood and bone. I lived for you. Even before I knew you, I lived for you.”

Sigrid's eyes were shining but the smile on her lips was real, if tremulous. “My fairy tale prince,” she whispered, the movement jarring two tears from her eyes. They ran down her temples, clear and bright as the Arkenstone itself. “When you say such things you make me believe them.”

“Aye, good. Because they're true.” He pressed a kiss to the soft dip between her belly and her sex, listening to her gasp as his beard grazed her sensitive mound. “Every word is true, my Sigrid. I could never lie to you.” He nuzzled lower. 

“But when we've bound our hands, in front of kings and countrymen,” he breathed, “and when I've paid your dowry and swept you away; my Sigrid, then I will lie _with_ you. Every night and daytime, until neither of us can move. Until I've known you inside and out and mapped all your secret places. Until you've felt me come apart inside you time and time again. And your hands and lips and voice and eyes will put me back together every time, piece by piece, until I'm whole enough to lose myself in you all over again.”

“Fili.” Sigrid's voice was a sapphire blue sob of hope and desperation. It fell between his shoulder blades like a teardrop.

“But for now,” Fili murmured, parting her with gentle fingers. “For now, my Sigrid, I mean to memorize you, like I promised.” 

He lowered his mouth to stroke his tongue along her glistening pink folds. The taste of her exploded on his tongue, fireworks dancing behind his eyes, and he moaned as he moved in for more. 

Sigrid's small, pale feet pressed against his back as she struggled for purchase, crying out with pleasure and surprise as he suckled on the tight bundle of nerves at the top of her slit. “FILI!” she wailed, one hand clutching his hair as the other lay on the pillow beside her head, curled into a tight fist. “Ohh... OHH!”

They'd been dancing on the knife's edge for so long that Fili knew she wouldn't last long. He slipped a finger easily into her slick core to give her body something to hold as he swirled his tongue a few more times around her eager bud. 

“Ahhhhh!” Sigrid let out a soft, strangled cry as she came, her body clenching hard around his finger, pulling him deeper. “Oh! Ohhh YES... YES... Mmmm...!” She twitched violently before collapsing back into the blankets, shivering and moaning his name.

Fili waited until her orgasm had faded before sliding his hand free and crawling upwards to rest above her like a blanket. “I've wanted to make you shake apart again since that day at the lake,” he murmured with a fond smile. “It's been too long.”

Sigrid blinked up at him, her eyes hazy and sated, the pupils so wide that the familiar silvery blue of her irises was merely a halo around a sea of black. “Oh... Fili...” One hand moved up to touch his cheek. “That was... oh...”

He chuckled and kissed her palm. “I told you once that the things I want to do with you can only be done well in a proper bed,” he reminded her. “That was just a taste of what's still to come.” His eyes twinkled. “Quite literally.”

Her flushed cheeks were already pink but he could tell she would be blushing by the look in her eyes. “And have you memorized my flavors, my prince?' she teased, her voice shaking from a mixture of shyness and lingering arousal.

“Mmm, not yet. I shall need more extensive, long-term study before I've truly memorized you in your entirety.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“Aye.”

“And in the mean time am I allowed to study you in exchange?” She didn't wait for an answer, dipping her head to drag her hot tongue across his flat nipple like a cat licking cream.

Fili groaned. “I think we can come to an arrangement,” he managed to choke out before he felt her slender hand and lightly calloused fingers slip down the front of his sleeping trousers. “Ahhhh, Sigrid...!”

“My turn, my prince,” she purred. 

He was certain he'd come instantly, but she managed to torture him for another full minute before he finally succumbed in a sticky mess across his stomach and her hand. _Class dismissed... for now,_ he thought with a dreamy smile as Sigrid tidied them both up and tucked herself into bed beside him, her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder. He must have been well again because she didn't even force him to drink her medicinal chicken broth concoction before she let him drift off to sleep with her cuddled against his side.

And that was where they were the next morning when Fili's mother found them. And then Thorin. And then Kili, Tauriel and the rest of the court, who came scrambling through the corridors to find out why the King Under the Mountain was bellowing his heir's name.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't believe a name is given anywhere in Tolkien's works for Fili and Kili's father, so I've taken the liberty of naming him Vili for the purposes of this story.

This was not the way Sigrid had planned to meet Fili's mother, but if it had to happen this way she was grateful for two things. First, that she had thought to wiggle back into her shift the previous evening before falling asleep in Fili's embrace. And second, that Tauriel was there.

They were currently standing in Fili's bedchamber, just the three of them (though she knew there were other dwarves clustered outside the closed door, listening intently and no doubt spreading all sorts of foolish gossip). Sigrid tried to appear as meek and contrite as possible as Tauriel fussed about, helping her dress and setting her hair to rights so that Sigrid herself could focus on the angry dwarrowdam pacing back and forth in front of her like a wolverine.

Dis was a very handsome specimen of a female dwarf, and were it not for the beard she'd be considered very attractive even by the standards of Men. Her hair and eyes were dark like Kili's, the hair at her temples streaked with grey, and Sigrid supposed that Fili's fair looks were from his father. The beads and jewels in her beard glinted in the lamplight as she moved, highlighting the intricate braiding that must have identified her as one of noble standing. She wore rough clothes that were travel-stained and worn, but nonetheless she wore them with authority. This was not just any dwarrowdam – this was Dis, daughter of Thrain, royalty in her own right and mother of kings. 

And right now her penetrating gaze was fixed square on Sigrid. It made the young woman feel very, very small.

“So you're the pretty young thing that's turned my boy's head.” Though her eyes were flashing Dis's voice was surprisingly soft. Sigrid was oddly reminded of the pan flutes she heard at town festivals – melodic and breathy and just a little deep. 

She shook herself when she realized she was daydreaming, and affected a curtsy that she hoped wasn't too messy. “Yes, your majesty.”

“Hmph.” The dwarf started pacing again.

Behind her Tauriel finished cinching the waist of Sigrid's gown and gave her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. Bless Tauriel. She'd already been through this with Kili, though Sigrid was quite sure the she-elf's meeting with Dis had been more planned and hadn't involved her lover's mother barging into his bedchamber to find Tauriel and Kili cuddled together asleep, half naked and looking decidedly unchaste.

Dis stopped pacing and rounded on the pair of them, her dark eyes glinting. “My boys are both a pair of hopeless dunderheads,” she said with resolve.

Sigrid didn't quite know how to respond to that. She glanced at Tauriel and saw the she-elf lower her chin in a respectful nod. Not wanting to make the situation any worse Sigrid followed suit.

“I raised them to be good lads,” the dwarf continued, resuming her pacing. The beads in her beard rattled slightly as she walked, her footsteps heavy. “Good dwarf lads, the pair of them. And while I admit that I never much cared for Kili's fondness for a weapon as elvish as a bow,” Sigrid saw Tauriel's lips twitch in a faint smile out of the corner of her eye, “I made sure that the pair of them could handle themselves as any dwarf should. My Vili would have been mortified if our sons couldn't throw an axe or wield a hammer, and by Mahal, I made sure they knew it. They're proud, my boys. Proud and strong. You'll not find a better dwarf on the battlefield or at the forge. Any dwarf lass would be filled with joy to take one of them to husband. They've made me and their father, may Mahal treasure him, so proud.”

She stopped pacing and turned to face the two women again. Sigrid realized she was chewing her bottom lip and quickly made herself stop. 

“But Mahal's beard,” Dis groaned, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. “I spent so long making sure they would be a fine legacy for their father that I damn well forgot to teach them what they ought to learn from their mother. And that includes how to pick a wife!”

She pointed sharply at Tauriel. “You. An elf. A blasted _elf_! My Vili must be rolling in his barrow to see his younger son besotted and ensnared by a bloody elf witch!”

Sigrid started to open her mouth to defend her friend but was quickly silenced when Dis turned her disapproving finger to her. “And _you!_ A wee slip of a girl, barely old enough to stand on her own let alone marry. A daughter of Men! Born and raised in rags and then jumped up to nobility in the blink of an eye. Forge fire and fiddlesticks!” 

She started pacing again. Tauriel remained silent, placid and resolute as ever, but Sigrid finally regained her voice enough to say, “Your highness, you should not speak so of the Lady Tauriel.” She shrank back as the dwarf rounded on her with fiery eyes but continued speaking. “She saved the princes' lives, and the life of the King Under the Mountain, after the Battle of Five Armies. Without her aid they should not have lived.” 

Dis advanced toward her. “Aye? And what of you, waif? You're quick to leap to the defense of this elf, but not to your own. Have you nothing to offer? No great feats of heroism upon which to pin your hopes? Speak, curse you, or has Mahal trapped your tongue in his tongs?”

Sigrid's innards felt like water but she raised her chin proudly, refusing to be cowed. “I speak for Lady Tauriel because she is my friend, and a good friend at that. I don't think it's fair to have her honor or value questioned when she has proven both beyond measure countless times.” She swallowed hard, trying to make her voice stop shaking. It was a futile effort. “And no, I'm not a hero. I've accomplished no grand deeds nor taken part in any valiant quests. I'm just a girl who lived for a time as the daughter of a bargeman and smuggler, trying to make sure my father remembered to eat and that my brother and sister were always kept warm and safe. 

“And then the dragon came from the mountain and took away all that I'd known and all that I'd been, and suddenly I was expected to be someone entirely new. The Lady of Dale is a title that means nothing to me. It's a label placed around my neck like an ox team's yoke, and there are many days I wish I could shake it off and go back to being Bard the Bargeman's simple daughter, for all that I'd be dressed in rags and castoffs. But my people need me, and though I'll never understand it they seem to hold me in esteem. So I go to them every day, help them where I can, comfort where I cannot help, console where comfort is too late and celebrate where consolation is not needed. I have gone from being a mother for my siblings to being a mother for my father's subjects, and I do not think I will ever be truly worthy of that honor.”

She took a deep shaking breath and plowed on before either Dis or Tauriel could interrupt. “But through all that, I am still Sigrid. To my father, to my brother, to my little sister. And to Fili. I am always only Sigrid to Fili, and for all that he's a crown prince who will one day rule Under the Mountain, he is still and only my Fili. I didn't know how dearly I needed that simple pleasure in my life, of knowing that there was someone else who understood what it was like to go from nothing to everything in the blink of an eye. But Fili has given me that understanding and so much more. 

“It's true that he could have any dwarf lass he wanted, and that he chose me over one of his own is something I still feel is a dream. But if it's a dream I don't want to wake from it, because then I would not have his easy smile and summer eyes to calm my fears and ease my heart. I'm not worthy of him, but I have decided I will work every day to _become_ worthy. 

“I have fallen in love with a dwarf prince, against all odds and reason. That is all I can offer by way of great feats of daring, your highness. And even though I know it is probably foolish to expect acceptance I nonetheless seek it, because it would make my Fili happy. And majesty, I would give all that I am and ever will be to make him happy, just as I know he would do for me.”

Sigrid closed her mouth with an audible _click_ as her teeth came together. The tremor in her voice had faded as she continued to speak, but as the silence stretched on in the wake of her outburst she began to feel that fearful vibration return to her limbs. _Oh, Valar... Please, don't let me have ruined this. Please, Valar... Aule, please..._

_Fili, I need you._

Dis was watching her with a shrewd expression on her handsome face. Sigrid found she was too emotionally exhausted to feign indifference and hoped that whatever the dwarrowdam saw in her eyes was enough to prove her sincerity.

At last Dis glanced away from her to look at Tauriel. “Did you coach her on all that?” she asked, and her voice was far merrier than Sigrid had been expecting.

Tauriel gave a sly grin and shook her head. “Not at all, highness. That was all and entirely Sigrid.”

“It sounded a great deal like your own plea to be consort to my Kili.”

“Your sons inspire very strong emotions, highness. Is it so difficult to believe that Sigrid and I might hold Fili and Kili in similar regard?”

Dis laughed.

Sigrid looked back and forth between the two other women in confusion. “What are you talking about? What's going on?”

“Oh, lass, you're as open and free of guile as a newborn lamb,” Dis said, laying a beringed hand on Sigrid's arm. Her dark eyes twinkled, and for a moment she looked so much like Kili that it took Sigrid's breath away. “I'm sorry that I had to test you in such circumstances, but I needed to be sure you were the fiery girl my son described in his letter, not some shrinking violet. We dwarves are a proud people, hard headed as the stone that forms our halls. There's no room for softness for a queen of Erebor. You must be firm in your convictions and sure of yourself, else you'll never earn their respect.” Her eyes glinted merrily. “Besides, my big blond oaf of a son has a stubborn streak a mile wide, just like his father. I won't always be around to give him a swift kick in the arse when he's being a bloody fool, so I need to be sure he'll have a wife who can do it, too.”

Sigrid blinked in confusion and surprise. “So this... this was all a test?”

“Aye. I admit I'd planned it to be a bit less off-the-cuff, but if the mine sends you silver you don't pine for gold.” Dis hopped up on the foot of Fili's bed and patted the blanket beside her, inviting Sigrid to sit.

Sigrid blushed as she did so, sitting stiffly next to Fili's mother and feeling terribly self-conscious as she remembered everything she and Fili had done together in that bed the night before. “I... should apologize for... for how you found us...”

“What, wrapped up in each other and looking cozy as a pair of kittens in a basket? No, lass, never you mind about that.” Dis's smile was kind. “It did my heart good to see my boy so happy. There aren't a lot of us ladies among the dwarves; we don't stand so much on chastity as you Men do. Though we _do_ believe in fidelity.” There was just the slightest note of warning in Dis's tone.

Sigrid nodded hurriedly. “Oh, yes, highness. I want no one other than Fili.”

“I know, my girl. I can see it in your eyes.” She patted Sigrid's knee. “And no more of this 'highness' business. Call me Dis, please, Or Lady Dis, if you want to be a bit more formal. It's bad enough I've got this one calling me 'highness' and 'majesty' every time I turn around.” She jerked a thumb in Tauriel's direction.

The elf grinned and bowed. “I'm an elf in Erebor, highness,” she reminded the dwarrowdam. “It wouldn't do for me to treat their princess with such familiarity.”

“Says the elf-witch who spends her nights canoodling with my little Kili.” Dis's tone was warm and playful, and Sigrid was reminded of Fili's comment that Thorin referred to Tauriel as the 'accursed elf-witch' as a form of endearment. Clearly Dis was no different.

She was stirred from her thoughts by a hand touching the beaded courting braid that rested against her cheek. “Silver and blue,” Dis said with a fond smile as she ran her sturdy fingers over the beads. “To match your eyes, no doubt. My Vili gave these to me at the Midwinter Festival. He said it was his way of giving me the stars in the winter sky.” Her eyes were distant with memory. “He was a romantic, my Vili. Golden as Fili, but with a heart like Kili. I know he'd be happy to see his lads all grown up into good strong dwarves who can hammer the forge and wield an axe, but who are brave enough to trust their heart when it comes to love, no matter where they find it.”

Sigrid's vision blurred with tears. “Thank you, Lady Dis,” she whispered. “I love your son very much.”

“I know, my dear girl. Come here. Give us a hug.” Sigrid quickly found herself wrapped in a tight hug by the dwarf princess. 

“You, too, don't you try hiding,” Dis added, and suddenly Tauriel was pulled into the hug as well. 

“Ah, my lovelies,” the dwarrowdam sighed, giving them a matronly squeeze. “I'd say you've both worn those courting braids long enough. Let's go find my brother before he tans my son's hide and turns it into new boots. I'm wanting a wedding, and there can't be a wedding without a groom.”

+%+%+%+%+%+%+

Thorin had graduated from cursing in Khuzdul and was now swearing in Westron, which Fili took as a good sign. 

“-accursed ass! Driven by the most base, bestial of urges! Rutting like a feral dog in heat, can't keep your sword in its _damned scabbard-!_ ”

Okay, maybe not a good sign; but still, an improvement.

“He's calming down now,” Kili mused as they watched their uncle pace back and forth in front of his throne, arms moving in broad gestures in his rage. “Hah! Two sixes!”

Fili grumbled and fished a coin out of his pocket, flipping it to Kili across the table as he gathered up the dice with his free hand. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “I shouldn't be here. I should be with Sigrid. Mother's probably giving her hell right now. A five and a three.” He tossed the dice and glanced at the door to the throne room.

“Sorry, a two and a six,” Kili said as the dice came to a stop. “Don't worry about her, brother. Tauriel's there. She'll make sure Sigrid is fine.”

“I should still be there. Sigrid wouldn't be in this mess if not for me.”

“-ginity of Bard's daughter, like a dwarf devil in the night! I should let the Bowman have your balls for target practice, you overheated, arrogant bastard! You had _one role_ to fulfill, and you went and threw it away for a night twixt a pair of thighs and a pretty smile-!”

Fili tuned his uncle out again and looked at Kili with a worried frown. “Bard's going to kill me, isn't he?”

Kili nodded as he counted up their respective piles of coins. “Oh, aye. You'll be lucky to get out of Dale with your manhood in your pants instead of on a pike by the city gates. Twelve to four. I win!” He sorted out the coins again so they both had eight apiece. “Best two out of three?”

Fili picked up the dice and shook them idly in his palm. “We didn't lay together like that,” he protested. “I know Men keep such things till their wedding night. Two threes.” He tossed the dice.

Kili cursed under his breath and gave Fili a coin as both die came up three. “I don't think Bard's going to care much about what you did and didn't do. The best you can hope for is that arguing, 'Lord Bard, I didn't in fact lay with your lovely daughter, but merely slept together with her in our skivvies with my hand up under her shift to squeeze her breast,' will earn you a swift death instead of a slow, painful one.”

“You're not much help, Keel.”

“I'm just speaking the truth, brother.”

“And don't talk about Sigrid's breasts.”

“I was making a point.”

“Still. Don't.” Fili knew he sounded ridiculous, but after half the court had seen him and Sigrid curled up in bed together he was feeling very protective of his beloved. 

Kili didn't argue anymore, rattling the dice in his hand. Before he had a chance to throw them, however, a foot planted itself on the edge of the table and kicked it away, sending coins scattering across the floor of the throne room. “ _PAY ATTENTION!_ ” Thorin bellowed, his eyes flashing as he towered over the two princes. “You two jest and make fun, while Fili's foolish actions may well have cost us a valuable friend and ally!”

Fili jumped to his feet, glaring at his uncle. “I will not let that happen,” he snapped. “I will do whatever I must to ensure that Lord Bard is mollified.”

“Yes you will,” Thorin snarled, unmoved. “And if you fail, you are no longer my heir.”

“Then so be it!”

“Fili. Uncle.” Kili broke in, trying to calm the tension.

“Be silent, Kili!” Thorin barked, his eyes never leaving Fili. “This is between the Crown Prince and the King Under the Mountain.”

“I believe you're forgetting someone, Thorin!”

The voice drew the attention of all three dwarves to the door. Dis swept into the throne room, Tauriel and Sigrid trailing behind her. Fili's heart ached when he saw the tension in Sigrid's shoulders. All he wanted to do was cross the floor, take her in his arms and whisper a thousand times how much he loved her, his uncle's fury be damned. 

She must have felt his gaze because she looked up from her intense study of the floor and gave him a tiny smile and a wave. Fili smiled in return and nodded in her direction. _Are you okay?_

She nodded in return. _Everything's okay._

“This is not your concern, Dis,” Thorin growled, and Fili turned his attention back to the confrontation in front of him. 

His mother came to a stop in front of Thorin, glaring up into her brother's face. “You're a damn fool, Thorin Oakenshield,” she snapped. “You curse at my sons, threaten their birthright, and expect me to stay silent? Forge fire and fiddlesticks!” 

She stomped closer, pulled back her foot, and kicked her brother hard in the shin with one sturdy hobnailed boot.

“OW!” 

“Oh shut up, you foolish man,” Dis groused, planting her hands on her hips. “You dare to stand here and make suppositions and ultimatums when you haven't condescended to so much as _ask_ the Lady Sigrid about her feelings on the matter? How dare you. How _dare_ you!” She kicked him again. Then again.

“OW! OW, Dis, dammit! Stop that!”

“No! You may be bigger than me, Thorin, but don't think I've forgotten how I used to make you beg for leniency when we were children. I don't care that you're King Under the Mountain. You're still my great cretin of a brother, and I'll kick you until you learn your lesson!”

“Lady Dis, please!” Sigrid stepped forward, holding up her hands to try and pacify the situation. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your defense, but I can fight my own battles.”

Dis glanced at her, then squinted back at Thorin. “You just listen to the girl,” she said, wagging her finger at him. “No interruptions, understand? And be polite!”

Sigrid smiled weakly and bowed to her as Dis stepped back to stand beside Kili with Tauriel. Fili would have stood beside her as she faced down Thorin, but Sigrid sent him a gentle smile that promised she'd be all right on her own. He nodded but kept his muscles tensed, ready to spring to her defense if necessary.

Sigrid bowed to Thorin. “Your highness, I want to apologize for causing such disruption in your court. It wasn't my intention. But please don't blame Fili for actions that were mutual. I assure you, he didn't seduce me or trick me into his bed. I was there willingly, of my own choice, and I have no regrets.” She smiled at Fili again and his heart swelled with pride.

“As to my father, please don't worry that this... incident... will disrupt our kingdoms' alliance. My father understands that I'm a woman grown. He wouldn't be pleased to know that I spent a night in a man's bed, but he also knows that I'm not a foolish girl who would let myself be talked into doing something so intimate with someone I didn't love. 

“I love your nephew, your highness. I love him very, very much. Sometimes I forget that we aren't yet husband and wife, and then we're parted and I'm forced to remember. I don't want to be parted from him anymore. I want to be his wife in reality, not just in fantasy. So please, I ask you to let me take Fili back with me to Dale so that we can tell my father together that I've accepted his proposal and we plan to be married.” 

Fili's heart pounded in his chest as Thorin considered her silently. “I am not the one you must convince, Lady Sigrid,” he intoned at last, his deep voice rumbling through the throne room. “Your father requested a month of courtship and it's just barely three weeks.”

“My father wanted to know that the Crown Prince would be willing to stand on his own two feet in front of the King Under the Mountain to defend me and my happiness,” Sigrid responded, her eyes clear. “I believe he's just done that. I believe he would do anything for me. Is that right, Fili?” Her eyes met his.

“Anything,” Fili answered without hesitation. “Anything, Sigrid.”

Another smile, secret and warm and just for him, and then she was looking back at Thorin. “Please, by your majesty's leave, I will return to Dale with Fili and convince my father to curtail the courtship and accept your gracious request to join the kingdoms of Erebor and Dale through matrimony.”

Thorin stared at her for a long minute before turning his gaze to Dis. “Did you tell her what to say?”

The dwarrowdam beamed proudly. “Not a word. If she weren't a daughter of Men I'd be sure she had a drop of dwarf blood in her.”

Fili took the opportunity to close the distance between himself and Sigrid and wrapped her in a hug. “You're a miracle, my Sigrid,” he murmured by her ear as she tilted her head to rest her forehead on his shoulder. “You work magic.”

“Hush,” she protested, her voice syrupy with emotion. “I only spoke the truth.”

“A pretty girl in love with a dwarf? My Sigrid, that in itself is magic.” He kissed her neck and held her closer.

Thorin cleared his throat to get their attention. “My Lady Sigrid, I grant your request. Please take my nephew to Dale to plead your case to your father. I ask only one thing.”

“Anything, your highness.”

“Please take my sister with you. My shins can't bear her company.”

Dis smacked his arm, her heavy rings thwacking against his gauntlet. “You deserved it, you great half-wit.”

Sigrid laughed and Fili hugged her closer. “As you wish, your highness. With Lady Dis and my Fili at my side, I believe I could face down a dragon. My father will be easy by comparison.”

Fili didn't say it aloud, but he personally would have preferred the dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of love Dis like crazy. ^_^


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this being such a talky chapter. You get Fili and Bard in a room together and somehow it turns into _jabber jabber jabber, yak yak yak._ Who knew?

“I look like a twit.”

Sigrid bit her lip to hold in her giggle at Fili's discomfort. “Don't be silly,” she chided, reaching across the space between their ponies to take his hand and squeeze. 

The crown prince glanced at her through the fur that edged his hood. “I'm bundled up like a dwarfling who's not yet grown his first beard,” he complained, though he didn't release her hand. Indeed he was dressed in thick layers of suede and fur, with gloves and warm, lace up moccasins over his regular boots. His golden hair was all but swallowed by the hood of his cloak.

Sigrid grinned, straightening her own fur-lined traveling cloak with her free hand before re-taking the reins. “And what do you expect? It's still chilly as winter here in the valley. I'm not about to let you go gallivanting down to Dale in naught but a spring coat and breeches so that you can come down with a fresh chill when I've just gotten you well from the last one.” 

Fili grumbled under his breath but didn't argue anymore, choosing instead to lace his gloved fingers with hers as they rode.

They'd departed the mountain earlier that afternoon and Dale was already beginning to rise on the horizon ahead of them, gleaming gold and terracotta in the April sun that hung low in the sky. It hardly seemed possible that it had only been that morning when she and Fili had been found curled up in his bed. She'd been convinced then that she'd be making this journey back to Dale on her own, courting beads removed and Fili stolen away from her. 

A warm flush of happiness rushed through her as she swung their joined hands. Her fears had been quickly laid to rest, first by Fili's mother, then by the King Under the Mountain himself. Dwarves, she'd discovered, were quick to anger, but that anger could cool just as quickly given the right circumstance. Apparently the opportunity to see her married to Fili was just such a circumstance.

“Ah, I wish we had a portrait-maker here!” Sigrid glanced over her shoulder to see Dis beaming jovially at them between her pony's ears. “You two look sweet as a painting in a picture book, holding hands and riding along like the prettiest lovers the world ever did see.”

“Certainly one of us is pretty,” Fili agreed with a smile. Sigrid blushed as he raised her hand to his lips for a gentle kiss.

“And my prince is devilishly handsome,” she teased, letting her knuckles brush over his cheek before taking the reins with both hands and spurring her pony to go a little faster. She heard Fili laugh as his pony passed hers, and soon they were in an all-out race across the lush green grass of the spring valley. Dis shouted after them to slow down, though her laughter belied her tone.

Soon enough they reached the outskirts of the city. Townsfolk called out in greeting as their Lady rode by, and Sigrid returned each greeting with a friendly bow of her head or hello of her own.

“Hallo, Lady Sigrid! Fine weather this day!”

“Aye, master blacksmith! Be sure to come out of your forge and enjoy the air, else I'll be telling your wife you're working too hard again!”

“G'day, Lady Sigrid! Bless ye, and yer young man!”

“Thank you, mistress milliner! My best to master milliner, too, and your little grandbabies!”

“Nine and counting, milady!”

Dis chuckled as she urged her pony to catch up to Sigrid and Fili. “The people love you, lass,” the dwarrowdam noted with approval. 

Sigrid blushed. “They are good people,” she said. “They have much love and kindness in them. I think they must pity me and think me still the little girl from the lake shores of Esgaroth, who must be coddled and treated gently lest I break.”

“Nay, lass. I think they love you because you are easy to love,” Fili argued, giving her a brilliant smile that made her heart flutter. “You are made to be loved, my Sigrid.”

“Aye, and the _Khazad_ shall love you, too, lass, when you wear my Fili's braids in your hair, a princess and future queen.” Dis beamed proudly. 

“I hope that I shall not disappoint them,” Sigrid murmured. “There is still much I don't know of dwarf custom.”

“Don't worry, my Sigrid,” Fili assured her in a soft, rumbling voice. “I'll teach you.” She smiled gratefully and reached for his hand again.

“But before we can be planning that we must settle this matter with your father,” Dis remarked. “I must say I look forward to seeing the Lord Bard again. He's a smart man, your father, and thoughtful. Far more level-headed than Thorin, and a damn sight less pompous than that trumped up fairy Thranduil.”

Sigrid didn't think she'd ever be able to face the elven king again without picturing him with a pair of iridescent wings and a spangled wand, like the fairies from her storybooks. _Oh dear. That could prove embarrassing..._

“Ah, here we are!” Dis crowed happily as they drew up in front of the Lord's Manse at the center of the city. “It's been too long since I've been to your city, Sigrid. It's looking fine, very fine.”

“Aye, we weathered the winter very well,” Sigrid agreed proudly, letting Fili help her down from her pony (she could have done it herself without trouble, the pony being so much smaller than her usual horse, but it was an opportunity to have his hands on her waist for a stolen moment).

“SIGRID!” The front door of the manse flew open and Sigrid found herself nearly bowled over as Tilda threw herself at her sister's waist. 

“Hello to you, too, little one!” Sigrid laughed, crouching down to hug her sister. She'd only been away for a few days but she'd still missed the younger girl dearly. “Where's Bain?”

“He's off at the guardhouse, learning to be a soldier. He won't be back till tomorrow.”

“Does Da know?” Sigrid asked, standing up and smoothing down her skirts.

“Oh aye. He doesn't like it much but Bain's been a pill about it, so Da let him go.”

“And who's this then?” Sigrid looked up to see Dis smiling at them.

“Ah, of course! Lady Dis, this is my sister, Tilda. Tilda, this is Fili and Kili's mother, Princess Dis of Erebor.”

Tilda offered an awkward curtsy to the dwarrowdam. “Hallo, Princess Dis. Thank you for bringing my sister home.”

“It was my pleasure to spend time in her company, Miss Tilda,” Dis remarked with a majestic curtsy of her own. “But I admit we've come for reasons beyond simply accompanying Lady Sigrid home.”

“Oh? Why then?” 

“I'm here to win your sister's hand once and for all,” Fili said with a grin.

Tilda glanced up at Fili as if seeing him for the first time, and her eyes widened. “Fili! I thought you were a little boy!”

Sigrid covered her mouth to hide her laughter at Fili's pathetic expression, hidden though it was inside his fur hood. “See!” he protested. “I told you I look like a twit!”

Dis hooked her arm through Tilda's, ignoring her son's complaints. “Will you show us in to your father, Miss Tilda?” she asked. 

“Da's just got back from the granary, but I'll let him know you're here,” Tilda said with a nod as she led the dwarrowdam into the manse. “Do you want a cup of tea?”

“That would be lovely, Miss Tilda, thank you.”

Sigrid let them get ahead a ways before hooking her own arm through Fili's. “Are you ready, my love?” she asked.

He patted her hand on his arm as they followed his mother and Tilda. “Of course. Are you?”

“I am glad you're here, and Lady Dis,” she admitted. 

“Mother will make sure that all goes well,” Fili assured her. 

That made Sigrid laugh. “Aye, that I believe. She is very hard to ignore.”

“I told you that our dwarrow ladies rule their homes with an iron fist, didn't I?” Fili grinned. “Now you know what I mean.”

By the time they'd all settled down to tea in the parlor they were joined by Bard. His hair was pulled back from his face and he looked freshly scrubbed. He clearly hadn't been expecting royal visitors and had hurriedly cleaned up when Tilda told him who'd arrived.

“Highness, it's a pleasure to see you again,” the Lord of Dale said with a practiced bow to Dis. He was getting better at it, and it came out looking more and more refined each time. “And you as well, Prince Fili.” He smiled at Sigrid. “My Sigrid.”

She hopped up from her spot on the sofa and hugged him. “Hello, Da. Did you miss me?”

“Every day, my girl. You look well.”

“Aye, so do you. Dame Meera has been ensuring you eat properly, I see.”

Her father laughed as she pulled away. “I am capable of feeding myself, Sigrid.”

“I know that,” she chastised with a smile. “It's just that you so rarely choose to do so.”

Bard let her return to her seat beside Fili as he turned his attention once more to their guests. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit, Highnesses?” he asked. “I assume this is more than a simple social call.”

“You assume correctly, Lord Bard,” Dis said, gesturing for him to sit. She was shorter than her son and her feet dangled well off the floor, but while her stature was childlike her bearing was every bit royal. “As you know, my son has been courting your dear daughter. And a fine daughter she is, Lord. You have raised her well, and it's clear she is much loved by your family and your people.”

Bard smiled and bowed his head in assent. “That she is, Princess. She has been among my dearest treasures since the day she was born.”

“I believe it, Sir, I believe it.” Dis smiled kindly. “We dwarrows know a little something of treasure, and it is clear that Lady Sigrid is a precious soul. My son has fallen quite desperately in love with her.” Fili took Sigrid's hand and gave her a warm smile and she took the opportunity to lean into him, grateful for his solid presence at her side.

“I can tell that they are much enamored of each other,” Bard remarked, his eyes on Sigrid and Fili for a moment before returning to Dis. “But you must understand my trepidation, Highness. Love, while precious, can be fleeting. My daughter is very dear to me, and while I have nothing but respect for your sons, I nonetheless must look to experience for guidance in these matters. 

“The crown prince may have told you, but my Sigrid has been the object of courtship of many failed suitors for the better part of a year. While some were bad men, there were nonetheless a fair few who were good men and who could have given my daughter a safe home and the promise of prosperity. While there was no immediate affection, you and I both know that sentiment is cold comfort on an empty stomach beneath a leaky roof. But where security is assured love can grow, and such might have been the case for any of the good men who sought my daughter's hand these last six months.

“But I did not force my daughter to marry any of these men, because I never wish to see her eyes lose the sparkle that have been their hallmark since she was a babe in the cradle.”

“Then surely, my Lord Bard, you can see how the match with my son is ideal,” Dis commented before he could continue. “For in my Fili your daughter will find safety, security, prosperity, and a heart full of love.”

Bard raised a hand to stop her. “That is why I worry, Princess,” he continued. “While your kin have been our neighbors since the fall of Smaug, and the dwarves of Erebor have been generous with both their gold and their manpower to rebuild our cities, nonetheless our individual relationships are tenuous at best. Your other son, Prince Kili, is perhaps the best known to our house, and has proven a good friend and a finer gentleman. 

“But the Crown Prince...” Bard trailed off and turned his gaze to Fili. Sigrid squeezed the prince's hand as he met Bard's gaze head on, unflinching. “I am sorry, Prince Fili, but I do not know you well enough to believe that the love you bear my daughter will last so long as she deserves. I intend to see her live a long life that is never wanting for the love of her family, including her husband, and this love that has sprung up between the pair of you has flared too quickly and too bright to be trusted to endure. And while affection may blossom where comfort is established, there is nothing so painful as a broken heart that has known love and been abandoned. We Men do not live so long as dwarves do, and our every moment is that much more precious as a result. I will not have my daughter withering beneath the mountain, starved of love, if you should decide upon reflection that she is not the one you desire. Not for all the gold in Erebor.”

“Da,” Sigrid chided, mortified, but her father gave her a firm look and shook his head to silence her protests.

Fili bowed his head in acknowledgment. “I understand your concerns, Lord Bard,” he said. “I told you once that I have been in love with your daughter since our company first encountered your family in Esgaroth, before the fall of Smaug. I assure you, that was not an idle remark. At the time I did not recognize the feeling that burned in my breast for what it was, and it was such a small thing that I did not even know it was there. In the years that have passed since then I've scarce had opportunity to examine my own heart to focus on that little ember, but it has continued to smolder unabated since that winter day. And now that the rebuilding of Dale and Lake-town has all but finished, and the rebuilding of Erebor has been more than half completed, I find myself spending more and more time consumed by that little ember; so much so that it's fanned itself into full flame. 

“My Lord, I love your daughter. I cannot imagine binding myself to another. Any such bond would find itself burned away by this blaze of love that has turned my blood to fire. I have spent the past week abed with fever and scarce able to breathe, and it did not abate until Sigrid came to my side to cool my blood and soothe the ache in my chest. If she leaves me again I know I will fall once more into sickness, and I will not be revived except by her presence. It is more than a chill; it is a sickness of the heart, and Sigrid is my cure. Without her I may live, but it would not be a life worth living.”

Sigrid touched his cheek. “Nor would mine be worth living without you, my Fili,” she murmured, before looking to her father. “Da, Fili understands me. He understands how... odd it has been for me, to go from a girl in hand-me-downs to a noblewoman. And he doesn't care.” She looked at Fili again, hopeless and besotted. “He fills a space I didn't know was empty. I did not even know I wasn't whole until I discovered my other half with him.” She bit her lip and pressed her forehead to Fili's. He smiled and toyed with her courting braid, his blue eyes bright with conviction.

“Lord Bard,” Dis added kindly, and Sigrid glanced up to see her father looking conflicted. Clearly Fili's speech hadn't convinced him and neither had hers, which was enough to drive her mad. “My Lord, I know that you find it hard to trust my son's words. No, don't apologize; I understand. It is easy to make proclamations of love when you're young and feel invincible. You and I have lived full lives already; we know the hardships our children may face. It is hard to hear them speak so plainly and so openly about love and happiness without worrying that they are forgetting the difficulties that life will throw at them that no amount of love can prevent.

Dis sighed. “Children are a rare gift among the dwarrow, my Lord, and a girl child to a dwarf is as precious as mithril. Please believe me when I say that I would not ask you to pledge your daughter to my Fili if I did not recognize the depth of feeling he holds for her. I would never take a child from her family if I could not guarantee her happiness. It is not in me nor in any of my line to be so cruel, nor to speak empty words when we speak of love. You said yourself Sigrid is a treasure, and I promise you that my Fili will treasure her above all else, until such time as Mahal takes us back into the halls of our fathers to wait for the rebuilding of the world.”

“Above all else?” Bard said, a little sharper than he'd probably intended, though he didn't back down. “Above even the wishes of the King Under the Mountain?”

“Yes, Da,” Sigrid said, surprised by her own voice. “He has already stood up to King Thorin on my behalf. He was ready to give up the throne to be by my side.”

Bard's dark eyes turned to Fili with confusion, and Sigrid instantly recognized her mistake. “What?” her father demanded, seizing on the opportunity to find a chink in the armor of Fili's love confession. “What is this my daughter speaks about? Why should such a confrontation have been necessary?”

Fili, bless him, only looked mildly panicked. “My uncle was not well pleased by my... closeness to Sigrid as she aided my recovery these past few days,” he answered awkwardly.

Bard's face turned stormy. “Not well pleased? I send my daughter to the Lonely Mountain to tend to his sickly nephew, to heal her suitor in the midst of their courtship, and the King Under the Mountain is _not well pleased?_ ”

“Da, it's not like that!” Sigrid protested. Already she could see all the progress they'd made in winning his favor begin to whirl away like water over a dam. He was so overprotective! So ready to see the worst to keep her from being hurt. If he'd just _listen!_

“No, Sigrid, I'll not have you defending this behavior!”

“Da, please!”

“Lord Bard, let me explain-”

“I've heard enough!”

“ _SILENCE!_ ” Dis's voice boomed through the parlor, loud enough to rattle the teacups in their saucers. When she was sure she had their full attention she smoothed her skirts and turned to Fili and Sigrid. “Children, would you give Lord Bard and I some time to speak privately? I feel that this is a situation that requires the frank discussion of one parent to another. My dear Sigrid, perhaps you could set my Fili to cooking up some supper. He is not well-versed in fancy meals, but he's a fine hand at the rough fare of the road. Give him a pot, some meat, a few vegetables and a pinch of salt and he'll make a meal fit for a Lord's house.” She smiled and gestured to the door, her expectation clear.

Sigrid took Fili's hand and stood quickly, grateful for the opportunity to escape. “Of course, Lady Dis. As you wish.” They both made hasty obeisances before Sigrid all but dragged Fili from the room, closing the door behind them.

“Cor, Da sounds _mad!_ ” Sigrid nearly jumped out of her skin when Tilda peeked her head around the corner by the stairs, beaming ear to ear. “What did you two do!”

“It's nothing,” Sigrid said, blushing furiously. “Come along, Fili, I'll show you to the kitchens.”

“Oh, yes, please.” Fili sounded eager to be as far away from the parlor as possible.

They'd almost reached the flagstones of the kitchen when they heard Bard's unmistakable bellow from the parlor. “THEY DID _WHAT!_ ”

“It doesn't _sound_ like nothing!” Tilda trilled from the staircase.

“Oh, Valar,” Sigrid groaned.

+%+%+%+%+%+%+%+

Shockingly, despite his roar of anger, Bard did not emerge from the parlor to lay waste to Fili, which the dwarf found simultaneously good and bad. It was good, of course, because it meant he'd get to live a little bit longer. It was _bad_ , however, because it meant his mother had somehow distracted Sigrid's father from seeking vengeance. That probably meant she was sharing some awful, embarrassing anecdote from his childhood that she thought would make him appear to be a playful scamp instead of a dreadful lecher. That was itself a double-edged sword.

They'd dispatched Tilda to go tell Dame Meera and her daughters that Fili would be preparing their evening meal, as much to stop Tilda eavesdropping on the conversation in the parlor as to save the tavern matron from making an unnecessary trip. Now Fili and Sigrid were busying themselves preparing Fili's specialty – a thick, rich stew that could keep a dwarf full and happy for a whole day of traveling over even the worst terrain. 

“This is all my fault,” Sigrid bemoaned from the cutting board, where she was dutifully chopping carrots and onions to add to the stew pot that bubbled away above the fire. “Clumsy, stupid Sigrid. What was I thinking, bringing that up?”

Fili set aside his own knife and abandoned his little pile of potatoes to round the counter and press a kiss to her cheek. “Stop that,” he said, smiling up into her unhappy face. “No more insults, understand? You've done nothing wrong.”

“But he needn't have ever known! And me, the dumb cow, goes and blabs-”

“STOP.” He laid a hand over her mouth to stem her tide of self-recrimination. 

Sigrid's shoulders slumped and she gazed at him pitifully over his fingers. 

“Your father is a good man,” Fili said. “He is a kind man, and he is a fair man. I would not like to think that you feel you have to keep secrets from your own flesh and blood. That is something I never want for you, my Sigrid. I never want you to think you have to hold something back for fear of the consequences. Your father is angry, but I feel certain that he will come to the right decision. Have faith in him, and in me, and most especially in yourself. Understand?”

She nodded.

“If I take my hand away, are you going to keep cursing your own name?”

She shook her head.

“Do you promise?”

Nod.

“All right then.” 

He slowly took his hand away and Sigrid smiled tearfully. “I know it's silly,” she said. “But I still feel responsible. What if he forbids the marriage?”

“My mother won't let him.”

“My father is very stubborn.”

“So is my mother.”

“Even if he says yes he might take a strong dislike to you. I couldn't bear that.”

“Then I will win him back to my side with my charm and wit.”

Sigrid giggled, and Fili was glad to see some of her worry dissipate. “You think very highly of yourself, Master dwarf, for one whose hands smell like potatoes.”

He laughed and kissed her chin. “Just you wait till you've tasted my stew, my Lady. You'll see why I have fair reason to boast.”

“I'll hold you to that, dwarf.” Her eyes sparkled as she returned to her slicing, and if it was possible to cut carrots jauntily, that's what she did.

It was another hour or two before the stew was done. Tilda had just finished setting the table and Fili was debating whether or not he should buck up the courage to go knock on the parlor door to announce that supper was ready when Bard and Dis emerged on their own.

They were laughing.

“So you see, he was running around like a little naked squirrel, covered in leaves with a mouth full of acorns!” Dis laughed, and Bard wheezed with laughter beside her. Fili flinched as he recognized The Squirrel Story. Durin's beard, he'd been _three_! That was eighty years ago! Was his mother _never_ going to forget that story?

“Ah, he sounds much like my Tilda when she was a little one,” Bard said brightly. “All mischief, all the time.”

“Aye, but we'd have been the poorer without them in our lives,” Dis remarked with a fond smile.

“That is true, Princess. Truer than most could know.”

“Da?” Sigrid stepped nervously out of the kitchen to intercept them. “Is everything all right?” It didn't escape Fili's notice that she was positioning herself between him and her father. 

Though judging by the smile on Dis's face, and Bard's own expression of fond exasperation, maybe he _wasn't_ about to die. Maybe he'd at least get to have dinner first.

“Yes, my dear, everything is fine,” Bard said, taking Sigrid by the shoulders and offering her a smile. “Princess Dis has... explained the situation. And while I'm not happy about what I've been told, her royal Highness has reminded me that it is in the nature of young lovers to indulge in a little youthful indiscretion now and then.” There was a faint blush on his cheeks that led Fili to believe that Bard's experiences with his wife might have featured one or two such 'indiscretions' of their own.

Fili could only see Sigrid's face in profile, but her smile was radiant. “Really, Da?” she breathed, clutching her hands under her chin. “You... you'll say yes to the proposal?”

Bard nodded.

“So I may marry Fili?”

Another nod.

“Oh, Da!” Sigrid threw her arms around Bard's neck in an exuberant hug, and her father laughed and picked her up to spin her around. “Thank you, Da!”

Dis waved for Fili to join them, and he realized with a jolt of embarrassment that he was gaping at the scene, slack-jawed and addlepated. He quickly wiped his hands on the nearest dishcloth and hurried to join his mother. _And Sigrid. My Sigrid. My betrothed_.

He didn't think he'd ever stop smiling.

“Lord Bard has been most generous,” Dis said as Bard set Sigrid back on her feet. She immediately went to Fili's side and hugged him tightly. “And most understanding. I explained to him a little about the importance of a marriage union in dwarf custom, and about the particular history of your courting beads, my dear. I think he understands now that dwarves do not take matters of the heart lightly.” She was beaming, and Fili was almost sure she had tears in her eyes. “He has agreed to end the courtship period and accept the request for Sigrid's hand.”

“Thank you, Lord Bard,” Fili said, releasing Sigrid so he could grasp the bowman's hand between both of his, hoping to communicate the depth of his gratitude. “Truly, Lord, I cannot... there are not words enough to express...”

Bard smiled and laid his free hand on Fili's shoulder. “I know you will do right by my daughter, Prince Fili,” he said. “And more than that, I know that if you hurt her, your mother will give you merry hell on Sigrid's behalf. “

Fili blanched and glanced at his mother. She nodded. “Aye, and I'll do it, too. You know that.”

Fili sighed. “Yes, mother.”

“But I also know it'll not be necessary,” she added, patting his other shoulder.

Fili grinned and looked at Sigrid, who was vibrating with excitement, tears of happiness streaming down her cheeks. “Never,” he agreed.

“That said, I have two caveats to my agreement,” Bard said, gently disengaging his hand from Fili's grasp.

That made both Fili and Sigrid look up sharply. “Eh? Caveats?” Fili asked.

“Da, no!” Sigrid argued. “You said-”

“Peace, Sigrid, they are simple things.” Bard's eyes crinkled in good humor. “The first is that I do not wish the marriage to take place at midsummer.”

“Eh?” Fili glanced between Sigrid and his mother before looking back to Bard. “Why not?”

“Because my eldest child will only get married once, and I do not want her marriage to be overshadowed by the Midsummer Festival.”

“Oh. That... yes, that makes sense.” Fili nodded. “When would you like the ceremony to be held then? Late summer? Early autumn?”

“I was thinking two weeks.”

Fili nearly staggered backwards as Sigrid exclaimed, “Two weeks!”

“Aye.” Bard and Dis shared a conspiratorial grin. “That should be more than enough time to put together the proper ceremonies and invite the necessary guests.”

“Balin's been a very busy bee,” Dis added, chortling. “He's already had the seamstresses working on your gown, Sigrid, and your wedding suit, Fili. Clearly he was sure about the outcome of all this long before anyone else. He's always been a keen fellow.”

Fili and Sigrid blushed. “Ah, yes,” Fili agreed, nodding. “So... two weeks. I think... Sigrid, that should be fine, don't you think?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, definitely. Two weeks. Very fine, yes.”

“Good. So there's that taken care of.” Bard clapped his hands together. “But I have a second caveat as well, which is a bit more immediate in nature.”

“Yes, Lord?”

Bard glanced at Dis, who nodded in acquiescence, then looked to Sigrid. “Sigrid, dear, you may wish to step back.”

“Eh? Why, Da?”

“Sigrid.”

She frowned but took a step back.

Bard smiled at Fili. “No hard feelings, Highness,” he said, before bringing his fist forward in a solid roundhouse right that knocked the crown prince off his feet.

“DA!” Sigrid squeaked, rushing to Fili's side. “What was that for!”

“I'm still your father, Sigrid,” he explained, holding out a hand to help haul Fili to his feet. “Fathers look after their daughters. Fili here will understand if you two are ever blessed with a daughter of your own someday.” He embraced the dwarf, his future son-in-law, and shook his hand. “Isn't that right, Fili?”

Fili winced as he nodded, shaking Bard's hand. “Aye, Lord Bard, that I will. The lads better watch out if they start looking sideways at my own little girl.”

Bard laughed and gave him a hearty slap on the back. 

“There then,” Dis said with a bright smile. “That's all sorted. I smell stew. Shall we eat?” She took Bard's proffered arm and let him lead her to the dining room, where Tilda had watched the whole scene with eyes as big as saucers, mouth agape.

“Oh, Fili, I'm sorry!” Sigrid crooned, fussing around him as he tried to shoo away the birds that were currently circling his head and tweeting. “Are you okay? Would you like a cold compress? I'll make you one like I did that time I... hit... you with that... rock. Oh, FILI!” She hugged him tightly. “You keep leaving my home with black eyes! Everyone's going to think I beat you!”

Fili blinked, ignoring the pain, then laughed and hugged her tightly. “No, lass, it's fine. Everything's fine. Your father's defended your honor, as any good father should.” He rubbed her back. “And we're to be married in two weeks time. That's worth a hundred black eyes.”

She pulled back a little and gazed down into his eyes (well, eye – the other one was already swelling shut). “Two weeks,” she breathed, her face alight.

“Two weeks,” he agreed. He thought for a moment, then laughed again. “Just enough time for this shiner of mine to heal, in fact. Your father's a smart man.”

“Come eat, you two!” Dis called from the dining room, where Bard was dishing out bowls of Fili's rich stew. “You can chat later. We've got a wedding to plan, after all.” 

Fili beamed and pulled Sigrid down for a tender kiss. “Two weeks,” he sighed against her lips. _And it feels so far away._

Sigrid beamed as they walked hand in hand to the dining room. “So what's this story about you running around naked with a mouthful of acorns?” she asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Fili groaned. “Mahal... I was _three!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO-HOO! We're gonna have a wedding!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long, everyone! I was dealing with a combination of writer's block and a pounding headache that refused to leave me alone for the past week. This chapter doesn't further the plot much, but what it DOES do is provide a nice healthy dose of smutty smut smut, because Fili and Sigrid have been such good little lovebirds. Time for them to be a little naughty.
> 
> Please enjoy!

“Hmm... Three bags of gold coins, three sacks of unworked nuggets, and... Ten? Yes, ten gold bars.”

Sigrid laughed as Fili bounced her in his arms. “What are you doing, you great oaf? Put me down!”

He grinned at her and shook his head. “Can't do that, love. I'm working out your bride price.”

The wedding was barely three days away and this was the first time the pair of them had been alone together since Bard had given his blessing to the union. Between fittings for wedding clothes, sending out invitations to the Mirkwood elves and various friends and nobles in Lake-town, preparing a suitable venue for the ceremony, and just generally accepting blessings and well-wishes from every Man and Dwarf they met, the pair had had been kept busy for almost two weeks, sometimes together but more often apart. 

The wedding itself was to be held in an open air courtyard at the foot of Erebor. The flagstoned clearing ringed by mighty marble columns topped with equally massive marble spacers seemed to have sprung up overnight, and Sigrid was once again amazed by the clever craftsmanship of dwarfs. The lush green valley that stretched out from the base of the Lonely Mountain set off the shimmering white and silver marble until it looked like a fairy circle from one of the many stories her father had read to her as a child. Dwarf lasses, under the decorative judgment of Dis, had been eagerly decorating the columns with flowers worked in gold and silver pounded so fine that the petals and leaves seemed almost alive. After the ceremony Fili had told her that there were plans to install a fountain in the center of the courtyard depicting the defeat of Smaug, and while she couldn't imagine how they would pull it off she had no doubt that it would be as beautiful as anything crafted by the elves.

Since the wedding was only a few days away, Sigrid and her family had traveled from Dale to spend the remaining days in Erebor. It had been a difficult moment for the bride-to-be, for while there would be a smaller celebration in Dale after the wedding to allow her kinsmen and people the chance to celebrate their Lady's marriage, she would be returning to the city not as the Lady of Dale, but as the Crown Princess of Erebor. She was looking forward to finally being wed to her golden lion of a dwarf, but her heart panged to think of what she was leaving behind; the pretty stone houses and wattle-and-taub cottages of her resurgent people, and the friends she'd made first in Lake-town and then in Dale. _You will have friends here, silly girl,_ she chastised herself. _You already do. Or are Kili and Tauriel and Bofur and Ori and all the others nothing but a figment of your imagination?_

Her disquiet must have been obvious to her future husband, though, because he'd managed to steal her away from his mother this evening to his private workshop. It was small by the standards of other chambers in Erebor, but still quite large in relation to the typical workshops of blacksmiths and jewelers that Sigrid new from Lake-town and Dale. The forge where Fili worked his metals was tucked around a corner so that its heat was thankfully not directed into the main room, which was dominated by a long trestle table covered in drawings and molds and the various tools of a master craftsman. Around the edges of the room were bags and boxes of every treasure imaginable: gold and silver, jewels that glowed with inner fire, great lumps of iron and bronze waiting to be forged into the beautiful and deadly blades and armor of a dwarf warrior. Alongside these riches, seeming out of place in the flickering lamplight, were bolts of shimmering fabric, slender branches and reeds in varying heights and thicknesses, and even – to her surprise – a well-stocked sewing kit. It had been while she was investigating this particular item that Fili had come up behind her and scooped her into his arms, princess-style.

“My bride price, eh?” Sigrid grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

Fili propped his foot on the bench seat of the trestle table and rested her bottom on his knee so he could free a hand to make note of his calculations. “That's right. Your weight in silver, gold, jewels and ornaments, remember?” He winked at her as he set aside his quill and lifted her into his arms again. 

“And this is how you weigh your future wife? No scales or counterweights?”

“A dwarf doesn't need that nonsense, Sigrid,” he protested, almost scandalized. “By the time they've grown their first beard fluff, a proper dwarf can estimate the weight of anything in his workshop, from the tiniest bauble to the most towering obelisk. That's why it's so hard to cheat a dwarf, y'see.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And you think that I'm equal in weight to, what was it?” She craned her neck to read his notes. “'Three bags of gold coins, three bags of nuggets, and ten gold bars?'”

“Absolutely, my pretty Sigrid.”

“But that can't be so, my prince.”

Fili frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

“Why, I am clothed, Master Dwarf! Your calculations are inaccurate.” Sigrid gave him her sweetest, most innocent smile. “I should not like to think that my bride price is overindulgent, and I fear your uncle may protest if he thinks there are too many gold bars to be accurate.”

Fili's eyes sparkled as he played along with her teasing. “Aye, that is true. And in fact, my own clothes may be interfering with ascertaining a proper weight. My sleeves are quite heavy, you see.”

“This simply won't do, my prince. I demand we fix these inequities before continuing.”

“As my lady desires. I am, after all, her humble servant.”

He placed her back on her feet and they set about undressing each other, laughing as they did. 

“Your coat is like lead, my prince! It's best to have it off.”

“Aye, so it is. And your petticoats! Are these stitched with gold thread? They must weigh a fair ton. Off with them.”

By the time they were done their clothes were in two haphazard piles on the table and Fili's mouth was making a spirited examination of Sigrid's bare belly. “My silly prince, there is nothing else to remove,” Sigrid teased, propped up on her elbow on the table top, her other hand combing into Fili's thick golden hair. “What do you seek?”

“There may be something hidden,” he said, voice muffled by the soft curve of her hip. “I must be completely sure that you're bare.”

Sigrid moaned softly and let herself relax back, her head pillowed on Fili's folded tunic. She tilted her head to bury her nose in the soft green fabric, breathing deeply to inhale his scent as his mouth moved lower. 

The lamplight caught on the silver and blue courting beads in her hair and she smiled, fingering them gently. “We have not removed our ornaments, my prince,” she murmured, biting her lip as he teased her legs apart to nibble on her inner thigh. “I still wear your beads in my hair, and you still wear my token.” The cool touch of the silver star pendant around his neck brushed her knee as she spoke and she sighed.

“Aye.” She felt his cheek rest on her thigh and looked down to see him gazing up at her, eyes looking like the waters of Long Lake under a storm of fireworks in the lamplight. “But those are not things that can be removed.”

“Why not, my prince?” Sigrid smiled fondly and touched his cheek, giving him the opportunity to kiss each of her fingertips in turn. 

“Because they are a part of us, my lady,” he murmured, catching her hand and lacing their fingers. “The beads you wear are my heart, and this star I bear is your heart. A piece of me with you, and a piece of you with me. When we're wed and truly one these ornaments won't be necessary, but until then I would not remove them for every piece of treasure in Erebor. It would be like tearing a piece of my heart away.”

Sigrid's eyes flooded with unexpected tears. _Dwarfs_ , she decided, _are hopelessly romantic creatures. Whatever made us think otherwise? All the love stories are about Elves and Men, but we're cold fish in comparison._

“My lady?” Fili's voice was concerned, and he squeezed her hand in reassurance. “You're crying.”

“Happy tears, you idiot,” she laughed, rubbing her eyes with her free hand before tugging on his fingers. “Come up here and kiss me before I turn into a blubbering mess.”

Fili grinned and obediently crawled up her body again to seal his lips over hers. She released his hand to curl her arms around his neck, holding him close so that his barrel chest rubbed against her sensitive nipples. One of his thick-fingered hands rested on her belly, fingers spread possessively, and she luxuriated in the heat that poured off his skin like a furnace. The winters in Esgaroth had been bitter and damp, and in Dale the winds had whipped down the slopes of the mountains like knives of ice. But here in Erebor she would never fear winter's cold again; not so long as she had Fili to keep her warm. “I love you,” she murmured into his mouth. 

“I love you, too, my Sigrid,” he rumbled in response, his voice vibrating between them. “I'm sorry that you must leave your home and family to be with me. I hope you'll forgive my selfishness that I'm happy you'll be mine.”

Sigrid smiled tearfully and cradled his face between her hands. “Magnificent brute,” she soothed, brushing her thumbs over his mustache and along the sharp lines of his cheekbones. “I'll be sad to leave behind my home and family, this is true. It hurts to think on it. But I'll be coming to a new home, and a new family, so it's not so very bad. I already feel loved here. A home isn't really a home until there's love, and that is no problem when I have my Fili and his silly brother and dear mother and cranky uncle to take me in.”

Fili laughed and kissed her sweetly. “Uncle Thorin _is_ quite cranky, isn't he?”

“Aye, very. But he's sweet in his own way. He rages because he cares for his people and his kin. I shall endeavor not to give him cause to rage at _me_ , though I fear sometimes I can be a bit stubborn and might put my foot in my mouth like a silly girl.”

Fili teased her courting braid out from behind her ear and stroked his thumb over the beads. “Uncle Thorin has a temper, but he respects resolve, pretty Sigrid. I think you'll find he's quite fond of you.”

“Will he tease me as he does Tauriel?” Sigrid giggled. “I think I should like that.”

“You mean the accursed elf-witch Tauriel?” Fili grinned and smoothed his hand up from her belly to squeeze her breast. “I think you can be certain he will.”

“Hmm... What do you think he will call me?” She kneaded his shoulders, stretching languorously beneath him. 

“That is a very good question. You are indeed stubborn, and young by our standards.” He kissed her, catching her bottom lip between his teeth for a nibble before releasing her. “Perhaps 'mulish girl child.'”

Sigrid wrinkled her nose. “Pah. I'm not a child.”

“Indeed you're not. I know that very well.” Fili pinched her nipple and Sigrid moaned happily, curling her leg around his waist. “We will have to disabuse Uncle of that notion very quickly.”

“What would you call me?” 

“Were I King Under the Mountain, and this bold young woman came striding into my kingdom to make off with the crown prince?” His hand released her breast as he spoke, and his fingers drifted down her body to settle between her legs, cupping her sex.

Sigrid let out a shivering sigh and nodded, tucking her head under his chin. “Aye...”

Fili kissed her, then trailed soft kisses from the corner of her mouth to her ear. She let out a soft gasp as one of his fingers teased her open and pressed into her slick passage, already wet and eager for him.

“I would call her my queen,” he whispered. “For no other dwarf would be worthy of her.”

Sigrid cried out softly as he rocked his hand between her thighs, his thumb brushing over that throbbing bundle at the top of her slit that made her see stars at the slightest touch. “Oh... Oh, Fili...”

“You will be my queen, Sigrid,” he whispered, and it was only the slight increase in the speed of his breathing that gave away the effect she had on him. “My beautiful, precious queen. And I will have you every night, beneath me, above me, around me, pulling me so deep. You are so very deep, my Sigrid. I cannot wait to be inside you at last, buried to the hilt in your slick quim. Sigrid, do you feel it? What you do to me?” He pressed his straining cock against her leg as he added a second finger to her sheath. It was almost embarrassing how easily it slid home; she was so wet, burning with need.

“Ah! Oh... Yes, I do... I... I do, Fili... Oh, Valar...” Sigrid clutched at his shoulders, pressing open mouth kisses to his throat and collarbone, burying her nose in the coarse golden hair of his beard. “I want you... Valar, my Fili, I want you...”

“I will take you in the daytime,” he went on, his voice burning like a candlewick through the haze of lust that addled her brain. “I will take you at night. I will have you for breakfast, lunch and supper, until you cannot think for pleasure.” His hand sped up, plunging in and out of her. The sound was filthy; the soft slap and squish of thick dwarf fingers delving into Sigrid's eager body. She loved it.

“I will fill you up to bursting with my seed, my beautiful Sigrid,” Fili growled, and now the tenor of his voice was echoing the lustiness of his words and the vigorous thrust of his hand. “You will not need to eat, because your belly will be full with what we share. And I will need no food because I will have your sweet body to keep me sustained. These breasts – I could sup on your breasts alone for a month and never tire of them. And when you cannot take my cock anymore and need to rest, I will soothe your aches with my tongue. Your honey will be my sweetest treat, and your moans of bliss will be my reward.”

“Fili, please...!” Sigrid pressed down, trying to force his hand deeper, crying out as his thumb flicked over and over and over... “Valar...! Aule, _**please!**_ ” Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She was so _close!_

“I will worship every inch of you, until you are as holy as Mahal's own hammer,” he whispered. “I promise, my Sigrid. I promise.”

He twisted his hand and Sigrid flew apart, sobbing out his name and pressing herself tight along his body, her hips pumping instinctively with each throb of completion. Fili rolled onto his back, drawing her onto his chest and hugging her tightly with his free arm as he let her ride out her orgasm around his hand. 

When the spasms had finally eased and the world had grown less fuzzy around the edges, Sigrid raised her head and gazed down into his face. “Oh... Oh....”

Fili swelled up like a proud rooster beneath her and grinned. “Liked that, yeah?”

A lock of hair had fallen out of her neat braid and she puffed it out of her eyes as she blinked at him. “Uh-huh.” Words were not high on her list of priorities right now. 

“I meant every word, too.” He pulled at the tie of her braid, loosing her hair so that it floated around her shoulders; all save her courting braid, which swayed and tickled against her cheek. “Beautiful...”

“Mmm...” Sigrid leaned into his touch as he combed his fingers through her hair, then kissed him and started to wiggle her way down his body.

“Where're you going, love?” 

“Mmm... South.”

That got a chuff of laughter from him, making his solid abdomen jump under her lips. “Oh you are, eh? And what do you plan to do when you get there?”

Her hand closed around his balls, squeezing ever so gently and eliciting a satisfying gasp from her prince. “Explore,” she crooned, then nuzzled his cock, which smoldered, thick and hot, against her cheek. “Maybe try mountain-climbing.”

“Ahh... Love... my Sigrid...” He trailed off into a string of indecipherable Khuzdul as she played with him. 

“This is a very Lonely Mountain, isn't it?” she purred, licking a stripe up his cock from root to tip, reveling in the sounds he was making. “I should like to make friends with it, I think.” She covered the head with her mouth, sucking gently.

Of the things many people had seen fit to tell her in the last week and a half – specifically the various women of Dale and a fair few of the matronly dwarrowdams here in Erebor – the various ways she could make Fili fall apart under her touch had most captivated her interest. “There'll be times when he won't be able to mount you properly,” one stout dwarrow had told her with a wink. “During your monthlies, or if he comes back from venturing afield and he's been battered about during the hunt. But that doesn't mean you can't find a bit of pleasure together.”

“Ye take 'is prick in yer mouth, see,” had been the advice of one of the younger wives in the soldiers' barracks back in Dale, “and ye take him as deep as ye can. Don't let 'im move 'is 'ips too much, though, or 'e'll choke ye, and that'll be a right disaster. Give 'im a bit of a suck, too; 'e'll like that.”

“But don't use too much teeth!” another young wife had broken in then, as the group of them clustered around a steaming tea kettle in the barracks' mess hall. “He won't thank you for that. They've got lots of sensitive bits down in their danglies.”

“Oh aye. And when 'e comes, ye've either gotta swallow or spit. Sometimes 'e'll warn ye, but sometimes 'e won't 'ave a chance, so ye gotta be ready.”

“Does it taste awful?” Sigrid had asked, because while she'd seen Fili come several times before, she'd never tasted his release.

“I don't mind it,” said the second young woman – Gillian was her name, and she was married less than a year and already round with child. “My Dougal is sweet as candy.”

“Hah!” the first woman – Magret – laughed, slapping Gillian good-naturedly on the arm. “So says the newlywed! Truth be told, m'lady, ye'll only know if ye like it when ye try it. The prince seems a good sort. I don't think 'e'll mind either way, so long as 'e's got yer mouth on 'im, making 'im sing the names o' the Valar.” 

Sigrid couldn't tell if that was what Fili was doing – Khuzdul was a guttural language, though beautiful in its own way – but he was clearly enjoying what she was doing as she bobbed her head up and down, taking his thick member into her mouth and letting him slide back and forth over her tongue. She felt his strong hands paw at her hair; he did love to play with her hair. 

“Ahhhh... Ahhh, my Sig... So close... love... Love, stop...”

She moaned softly and managed to shake her head a little. She was determined to take him in her mouth when he came. Better to find out now if she minded the taste and feel of him rather than on their wedding night. She was determined to make their wedding night as perfect as possible, and that didn't include gagging and vomiting up his come.

“Sigrid... SIGRID... Dammit, I... Nnnngh!” His hands fell away from her hair as he clutched the edges of the table, his forearms cording with the effort of holding himself in place. Sigrid could almost _feel_ his balls contracting in her hand, and before she could get her mouth further down his shaft he was coming, pulsing into her mouth in thick, hot spurts.

It took her by surprise and she pulled up, coughing and choking, as the remainder of Fili's release streaked across her breasts and belly. 

“Ah... Ah, love... I'm... sorry,” he panted, his body trembling in the aftermath. “I didn't... I shouldn't have...”

Sigrid shook her head, still coughing. _Valar, how embarrassing!_ “It's... it's okay...!” she promised between eye-watering coughs. “I... wanted that...!”

“I've made a mess of you. My pretty Sigrid...” He sounded so forlorn.

She finally managed to take some shuddering breaths without coughing and gave him a shaky smile. “I don't think so,” she told him huskily, her throat still rough. “This proves how much you wanted me.”

Fili's eyes swept up and down her body, lingering on the come that was dripping down her body. “Aye,” he admitted, still breathless himself. “That much and more, Sigrid.”

She looked down at herself, blushing as she wiped a hand across her mouth and saw it come away with yet more of his release. It tasted salty, she decided, but not altogether bad. 

“You'll have to clean me up, though, my prince,” she said, looking at him through her lashes and smiling impishly. “With all this on me, it's sure to throw off the weight when you're preparing my bride price.”

His sated blue eyes flared with fresh arousal. “Oh, you're right, my lady. The both of us shall have to have a good wash. It will be my pleasure to bathe you.”

She crawled up over his body and nuzzled his cheek. “I am your humble servant, my prince,” she purred. “Do with me what you will.”

Fili growled and buried his hand in her hair to pull her down until he could press his lips to her ear. 

“I will soon, my Sigrid,” he whispered. “Very soon.”

Three days couldn't pass fast enough.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for why it has taken me so long to write this latest chapter, everyone. All I can say is that between work turning into a non-stop cluster for the past few months, various and sundry familial ailments, one out-of-state business trip and a killer case of writer's block, sitting down to write about our favorite dwarf/human couple has just not been in the cards. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's stuck with me and encouraged me to keep going with this story. I promise you I never intended to give it up -- these two are too dear to my heart to abandon them like that! :)

The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear, and Sigrid was going to scream.

“ _More_?” she groaned as Dis'dwarf handmaidens clustered about her to wrap another beaded belt around her waist. “I'm not going to be able to walk with all these beads!”

“Nonsense,” Dis argued from her seat at the vanity where she was holding court, approving beaded color combinations and directing her handmaidens as they outfitted the future queen in her wedding garb. “You're a big, strong girl. Anyway, they'll all be coming off again soon enough. Speaking of which, did you drink the little bottle I gave you, dear?”

Sigrid couldn't help but blush. She didn't know what she'd expected from a future mother-in-law, but it certainly hadn't involved speaking so frankly about the things Sigrid and Fili would end up doing together on their wedding night. “Yes, Lady Dis,” she said shyly, painfully aware of the giggles from the dwarf girls around her.

“Hush, you lot,” Dis said. “This is your future queen's wedding night we're talking about, not some fumble in the hay with a metalsmith fresh off the forge.” There was a soft chorus of, “ _Sorry, your highness”_ -es, and Dis nodded in approval. “Good girls. Now then, you'll get another bottle at the feast. Normally we dwarfs only need one, but since Men tend to be a wee bit more fragile than dwarfs, I think it's best to give you a little more. Oin agrees.”

Sigrid groaned. “You told Master Oin?”

“Of course! Now now, don't be shy, lass. You're going to be an honorary dwarf soon, and we ladies are in the minority where dwarfs are concerned. You'll have to get used to talking about girlish things with our lads. But don't you worry – they're good boys, and they're more scared of you than you are of them.”

“You make it sound like I'm a wild animal.”

“To most dwarf lads a female might as _well_ be a wild animal: something to be approached with caution and care. Right, girls?” There was an agreeable murmur through the group of handmaidens. “There, see? Besides, Master Oin may be deaf as a post and a bit of an old fossil, but he's a skilled healer. Men and dwarfs alike used to seek him out in Ered Luin to tend their ills, so he knows your biology well enough to be a suitable physician. And according to Master Oin, two doses of the liqueur ought to be enough to make your first night with my Fili an enjoyable one.” Her eyes twinkled merrily. “Ah, it'll do my boy good to have a fine woman in his bed every night. Nothing like a good wife to keep a dwarf's boots on the ground rather than climbing cliffs like a mountain goat.” The handmaidens chattered their agreement. This was clearly a well-worn aphorism in dwarf circles.

“That's provided I'm able to make it to the altar,” Sigrid complained as a beaded shawl was draped over her shoulders. “I genuinely think I won't be able to move, Lady Dis. Are all these beads necessary?”

“They indicate your status as the future Queen Under the Mountain, my lass. The more intricate and precious the beads, the higher the maid's status. We want to make sure that every dwarf at the ceremony recognizes your position.” 

“I can barely lift my arms!”

“Pish posh. Why, you should have seen my own wedding gown. I rattled like a dice cup!” Dis chortled. “Ah, it did me good to see my Vili's eyes as he looked at me.”

Sigrid wanted to remind Dis that, height notwithstanding, dwarfs tended to be much stronger than Men. “You're going to need to carry me to the wedding, Lady Dis. Or perhaps lift me into one of your wheelbarrows and roll me to the altar.”

“Oh goodness, girl, it's not that bad! Fine, fine. Come over here and let me have a look at you.”

Sigrid tried to take a step, over balanced, and tumbled face first onto the floor in front of the dwarrow matron.

“Ow,” she groaned. 

“Hmm,” Dis mused as she watched the handmaidens fuss around Sigrid, trying to set the future queen back on her feet. “Maybe not so many belts.”

 

+&+&+&+&+&+&+&+&+&+&

 

“Honetly, Fi, I don't know what your problem is,” Kili complained as he listened to his brother being violently sick in the next room. “You'd think you were marrying some horsefaced old goblin the way you're going on about it.”

The privy door opened and Fili leaned against the jamb. “Shut it, you pitiless skunk,” he moaned. “You're not the one getting married today.”

“Perhaps not, but if I _was_ I'd be giddy as a bumblebee in a field of poppies,” Kili protested. “I'd be marrying my lady of summer starlight, after all.”

“You are sweet, _meleth nin_ ,” Tauriel said with a kind smile as she approached Fili and dabbed at his ashen face with a damp cloth. “But your brother is suffering through a very common affliction that strikes many grooms on their wedding day.”

“Bloody foolishness?”

“Nervous stomach,” Tauriel corrected with an affectionate smile at her lover before returning her attention to Fili. “I'm certain Sigrid is feeling something very similar, Fili. You are both about to take a momentous step forward in your relationship.”

“Mahal's beard, please don't tell me you're about to give Fili the talk about where little dwarfs come from,” Kili groaned, flopping backward on his brother's bed and idly working a cat's cradle with a bit of string from his pocket.

“Ignore him, Fili,” Tauriel said, smiling at the older prince as she knelt down to be closer to eye-level with him. “It's perfectly natural to be nervous.”

“I shouldn't be,” Fili said, feeling stupid and young and clumsy next to the willowy elf with the wise eyes. “I love her. She's my Sigrid. All I've wanted for what feels like forever is to have her by my side, to make her the happiest maid to ever walk in the sun or under the mountain. I don't know why I'm sick about it.”

“I think you've answered your own question, mm?” Tauriel patted his brow with the cool handkerchief again. “You've waited a long time for this, and your plans and expectations are understandably high. But you mustn't overburden yourself so, your highness. Sigrid will be happy not because of the things you do, but because it is you who does them. You could build her a palace of gold and gems to rival the finest ever seen in Arda; or you could build her a straw-thatched hut of sticks and mud, cured with the sweat of your brow; or you could lay side by side on the green grass of the valley and build her castles in the clouds that drift apart to be built anew somewhere else; it doesn't matter. Sigrid will be happy regardless, because she will be with you and these are things you'll do together.”

“But I'm taking her away from everything she's ever known...”

“Yes, but such is life.” She smiled kindly, cupping his bristly cheek with one soft hand. “I left behind my home of six hundred years to live under the mountain with my love. I have not once regretted that decision. I am certain that your Sigrid will feel the same.”

Fili offered her a wan smile in return. “My oaf of a brother doesn't deserve you, lady. You're far too good for him.”

“Oi!” Kili protested from the bed.

Tauriel's eyes twinkled. “You know, Prince Legolas told me much the same thing when I left Mirkwood.”

“OI!”

“It must be something crown princes understand that other princes don't.”

“It must be so.”

Fili chuckled at his brother's squawking protests, then sobered. “I am glad, lady Tauriel, that you will be here for my Sigrid. She will need a friendly face from the world beyond the Mountain who understands the peculiarities of living with dwarfs.”

“I am still learning that myself, highness. Every day.” Tauriel stood up and smoothed his hair. “Now let's get you into your wedding coat. Your bride will be ready soon.”

Fili felt himself pale again. “Mahal...”

“Breathe, highness,” Tauriel instructed, laying her hand on his shoulder. “Deep breaths.”

Fili was working on his third deep, cleansing breath when Kili sat up, all smiles, and asked, “Here, do you think mother's given Sigrid the little bottle yet?”

“Kili!” Tauriel snapped, then groaned as Fili turned on his heel and bolted back into the privy. “My darling little fool, why did you do that? He was doing so well!”

Kili gave her a smug smile as the sound of Fili's retching came through the oak privy door. “That's what he gets for taking that ninny elf prince's side instead of mine.”

Tauriel rolled her eyes – something she'd picked up from her time with the dwarfs – and went to fetch more ginger beer to soothe the crown prince's stomach.

 

+&+&+&+&+&+&+&+&+

 

The Little Bottle (Sigrid had begun inserting the capital letters whenever she thought about it) had dominated the new bride's thoughts ever since Dis had first mentioned the concoction the day before. “It's just a little _apéritif,_ lass,” the dwarrowdam assured her. “But instead of aiding the digestive system, it aids certain other natural appetites.”

In other words, an aphrodisiac.

But an aphrodisiac with a twist.

Sigrid knew that a young woman's first time was usually... painful. It was one of the things she'd picked up from years of giggled conversations with friends and matronly advice from the older women back in Dale. 

“But you see, we dwarfs can't be fussing over such things,” Dis explained. “Dwarrow maids are too few and far between to be dealing with hindrances like that. So Mahal gave us this liqueur to take away the pain.” She'd pressed The Little Bottle into Sigrid's hand with a secret smile and a wink. “Normally we don't share this outside of the Dwarrow, since it's our gift from the Maker himself. But as you're going to be an honorary dwarf, my lass, we'll share it with you.”

The _apéritif,_ as Dis had called it, tasted sweet and bubbly; a bit like strawberry champagne. Sigrid had drunk the first bottle with her breakfast and wondered if she was supposed to feel any different as a result. At the very least it seemed to have calmed her stomach, which had been twisting and rolling all night. 

As she approached the open-air altar she wondered if there was something similar they could have given Fili. Her bridegroom looked pale and even a little green, with dark, bruised circles under his eyes. So while he was very dashing in his sapphire coat edged in gold, all she could do was worry about his poor tummy.

“My love, you look so ill,” Sigrid whispered as she reached the altar and took Fili's hands. “Are you well? Have you drunk your ginger beer like I told you to?”

Fili offered her a small smile. “Tauriel was pouring it down my throat like water, love. Never you mind. I'm fine. Just eager to call you my wife.”

Sigrid blushed and smiled, suddenly sharply aware of the hundreds of eyes – Dwarf, Man and Elf alike – that watched them from all sides of the crowded courtyard. “And I to call you husband, my Fili,” she whispered, squeezing his hands. The smile he gave her in return was enough to calm whatever anxiety The Little Bottle might have left roiling in her stomach.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered as Balin climbed the dais to begin the ceremony.

She giggled. “You should have seen me before they took away thirty pounds of beads.”

He laughed, then quieted as Balin cleared his throat. The sussuration of voices around the courtyard dissipated until the only sound was that of the warm spring breeze rustling the distant grass of the valley spread out below them like a blanket of green. 

“Lords and Ladies, Kings and countrymen, squires, maidens, and greybeards,” Balin began, his lilting voice carrying to the farthest reaches of the courtyard, helped by the dwarfs' brilliant architectural skill and ear for harmonics. “We bid you welcome this fine day as we prepare to join together two kingdoms here at the foot of Erebor, in air scented by the delicate flowers of Dale. 

“For all of us gathered here today the road has been long and treacherous. We have all of us known hardship and loss. A few short years ago my kin and I had no home to call our own. The Men who dwelt in the shadow of the mountain lived a hard scrabble life, always in fear that the wyrm would awaken to finish what it had begun so many long years ago. And our friends the Elves battled alone against ever growing darkness that turned their lovely Greenwood to a place of shadows.” Sigrid heard a flutter of chatter from the crowd when Balin referred to the Elves as friends, but the white-bearded dwarf spoke over the voices until they faded again into nothing. 

“Today, then, is not merely a wedding,” Balin continued, the breeze ruffling his fine white beard. “Today we celebrate the beginning of a new age for all of us – Dwarrow, Man and Elf. An age of friendship, of camaraderie, and love.

“And it is love, above all, that brings us here this bright day, under the blue sky, in the waxing days of May. For we are here today to bless the union between two young hearts that have found in one another an equal and a bonny future: my lord, the Crown Prince Fili of Erebor, and the fair Sigrid, beloved Lady of Dale...”

Sigrid let the elder dwarf's words wash over her as she gazed into Fili's eyes. The deep sapphire shade of his wedding coat made his summer blue eyes deep as Long Lake, and she found herself remembering their first sweet union on the shores of that lake just a little more than year ago. At the time she hadn't thought what their future might hold together; it was too much simply trying to keep the day-to-day workings of the present on a steady, even keel to even think about such things. But now, standing on this dais, Fili's hands clasped in her own -- calloused and achingly familiar -- she knew that this was always where fate had intended her to be. 

_Even before I knew you, I lived for you._

That was what Fili had told her, and she'd thought him a fanciful poet at the time; a passionate romantic. Not so now. 

She heard her voice reciting the marriage vows as if from a great distance, the words translated from Khuzdul to the Common Tongue so that all those in attendance could hear and understand. 

_I bind myself to you, in chains light as air,_   
_Forged within my blood and bone,_   
_Hammered by my heartbeat and linked by the steady hands of Mahal,_   
_The Maker, the Shaper,_   
_Who has forged a bond between us as unbreakable as diamond,_   
_As rare as purest mithril,_   
_As precious as hearth and beloved as home._   
_I bind myself to you,_   
_My home, my hearth, my heart, my treasure._   
_I bind myself to you._

She felt the binding cloth being wound around their joined hands as she watched Fili's lips repeat the words she'd spoken, but this time in his traditional tongue. 

Then his lips were coming closer, and suddenly the world exploded into a cacophony of sound and color as he kissed her, his strong arms wrapping around her waist and holding her close, beads and belts and shawls and all, as he plundered her mouth with blissful abandon. Sigrid felt giddy with delight as she leaned into the kiss, returning his eagerness tenfold and choosing to ignore the catcalls (Kili) and sobbing (Dis) and excitable clapping (Tilda; definitely Tilda) that were audible even above the roar of the happy throng. It was enough that she could kiss her Fili like this, in front of all and everyone, and know that he was hers.

“Friends, I present to you the Crown Prince and Princess, future King and Queen Under the Mountain!” Balin cheered, and Sigrid could hear the tears in the elderly dwarf's happy voice.

“Blessings be upon them!” Thorin bellowed, and the gathered dwarfs repeated the oath. _”Blessings be upon them!”_

“And when my brother sees fit to let his wife breathe again, we can eat!” Kili hollered. The crowd exploded with raucous laughter.

Fili broke away from her lips to gaze into her eyes. “My wife,” he murmured, breathless and flushed, the ashen tone of his skin replaced with the healthy pink glow of a very happy man.

Sigrid beamed, tears prickling her eyes. “My husband,” she whispered.

And then they were surrounded by friends and family, hugs and kisses, handshakes and back slaps, and Sigrid realized that the hand binding part of the ceremony wasn't just to symbolize their union, but also to keep the pair from being torn apart by the flood of well-wishers that swept them up like a river and bore them back to the mountain.

“I love you!” Sigrid shouted above the din, laughing.

Fili grinned and squeezed her bound hand tighter. “I love you, too,” he said, and though he didn't shout, she felt sure she would have heard him a hundred miles away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAAAAAY WEDDINGS!
> 
> Just one or two more chapters after this! And God willing there won't be any more multi-month long waits between now and then. *knocks on wood with crossed fingers!*


End file.
